Secrets and Lies
by happycat12
Summary: Princess Eleanor returns to the Palace and is caught up in a web of secrets, lies and deception. Will she emerge safe or have her heart broken once again?
1. Chapter 1

So I've been getting a few messages along the lines of when are you going to write a new story. This storyline is something I've been thinking about for a while.

So here's the new story set after the end of Season 3. Unfortunately I'm not going to be able to update as often as I'd like as I have a new job which is pretty busy but will try and update at least once a week.

* * *

It had been nearly four weeks since she'd set foot on English soil.

And after the heat and dust, the noise and the white washed antiquity of Morocco, through her eyes England now seemed a strangely subdued place.

And perhaps it was the effect of the tinted windows on one of the family's Rolls Royce's but as they sped through London's streets everything about the place was muted – no brilliant colours illuminated by harsh sunlight, no bazaars or hawkers trying to hustle a sale, no heated arguments between street vendors but people minding their own business or exchanging in polite small talk.

For the past three and a half weeks she'd thrown herself into the task of visiting Sebastian's eight villas, photographing their current décor which she'd them meticulously storyboarded onto a series of posters. On one side were the photos of the villas as they were now, accompanies by images of their settings, local scenic attractions and bulleted points about their facilities. On the other side were a collage of her design 'inspirations' – colours, photos of interiors, fashion, oriental rugs, lamps, silks and more along with a random assortment of key words like 'harem chic,' mysterious, and funky.

From that she'd drawn her overall theme for the villas with each one to have a separate local flavour. Redecoration of the first one would start later next week and she was both ridiculously excited and nervous when she thought about what could go right or wrong.

The reason she'd come back – just for a long weekend, as she'd informed Sebastian and her family, was to celebrate her mother's birthday.

When she was small, this had always been celebrated in great pomp and style, with gala evenings or royal command performances but in the past few years the celebrations had become much smaller and more discreet.

There was nothing about her mother's preferences that favoured discretion when it came to PR, and Eleanor knew her mother well enough to understand that, after 40, her mother looked on each passing birthday as a reminder that she was getting older. And all the botox and expensive face cream in the world couldn't hold back the tide of time forever.

And Eleanor, who herself knew everything about the scrutiny and spite which the tabloids viewed the women in the family with if they acted or appeared anything less than perfect, actually felt a stirring of sympathy for her mother.

She sat back in her seat and gazed out the window, brooding. The tabloids were going to be a huge problem.

Her left hand nervously played with the long silver chain around her neck. She didn't know which she was more scared of – her Brother the King, her mother, Rachel, the tabloids or the person ultimately responsible for this whole mess - along with herself, of course, because there was no way she was getting out of this without being held culpable for a crime.

Because the thought of telling any one of the names of that list was terrifying, to the extent that her heart had started racing and palms were now clammy just from the thought.

The black car slowed as it approached the Palace Gates, then glided gracefully down the driveway to deposit her in front of the massive front door.

Eleanor waited, clutching her hand bag tightly, for the driver to open the door.

She placed one delicate foot onto the cold stone steps and then another.

As she stared at the imposing building in front of her, the sense of foreboding grew into something that felt almost like panic.

Sooner or later this weekend she was going to have to break the news that she, the newly single Princess, had gone and gotten herself knocked up, and in around eight months there would be a new bastard heir to the throne.

And she was smart enough to know that once she did, all hell was going to break loose.


	2. Chapter 2

She's only just had time to return to her own room while a footservant deposits the four suitcases she deemed necessary when travelling light for a long weekend at the front door.

A minute later a housemaid appears to unpack and inform her that her mother has ordered tea be served in the east parlour.

And she doesn't want to face any of them - least of all her mother because, dangerously and quite impossibly, she can sniff out the scent of cocaine, cigarettes or sex or tell if she's been misbehaving well before the tabloid evidence is deposited on her eighteenth century French bureau.

But it's not as if she has a choice, because her non-appearance would raise even more questions than her actual appearance would.

So five minutes later she's seated sipping tea while her mother looks through her design schemes for the hotel. And she sounds and looks genuinely proud of her work, and its hard to stop the rush of pride she feels that for once she's made at least one of her parents proud.

A minute later Liam is at the door, pushing it aside and she's on her feet and in his arms, and almost four weeks feels like far too long because they've never been apart more than a week before.

They separate a moment later, and Eleanor grimaces while she takes in his hair disapprovingly.

"If you're going to continue to persist with that hair style and those pants then I'm going to have to renounce you as my twin. You look like a young Justin Bieber only more bloody retarded as well as a lot more gay. It takes a lot to take out the worst dressed prize in our family given our dear cousins Penelope and Maribel always try to outdo each other's crimes against fashion but you currently take the cake," she announces shaking her head.

Who knew that in only a few weeks with her away from the family, Liam could have been led so _badly_ astray.

Liam looks back at her, his face a cross between outrage and hilarity. As usual his good humour wins over and he bursts into laughter.

When he stops laughing, he sweeps his fringe to the side. "I was told it made me look more sophisticated," he informs her with dignity.

"Well if you think of a toddler who's managed to vacumn the right half of his head to the hoover and is having the worst hair day ever as a result as sophisticated then yes, you're ticking all the boxes," Eleanor deadpans back sarcastically, seating herself back in her chair and elegantly picking up her tea cup.

And she's can't help but be pleased that Liam's back with her. That he's here with her, and he'll have her back, whatever she says and whatever she does.

Her mother's started wittering on about some changes she's planning to the rose garden and Liam's tucking into the superior eclairs the Head Chef has prepared for morning tea and she's trying to listen but only half heartedly.

And she wonders if she could, if she should, tell Liam her _secret_ so that she can have someone in her corner, whatever comes next.

Just as the clock strikes eleven, the butler pushes open the double doors to announce the arrival of the King. As if she couldn't recognise _her own bloody brother_ without his arrival being preceded by an announcement of his name along with his four middle names.

Really, could he not do away with that kind of stupidity already? Because the formality of it and the reminder of _who_ he was and _who_ she was and all the expectations and traditions which went along with it was really _setting her on edge_.

A few seconds later Robert drops a kiss on her forehead and is smiling down at her benevolently. "How's my favourite sister?"

Eleanor draws a breath and steadies herself. "Fantastic," she lies. "Absolutely great," she adds, attempting a convincing smile.

Robert's looking back at her like he knows something's up.

She could have kicked herself. Too much forced enthusiasm.

When she looks up again she sees him. Lurking in the corner of the room, his face inpassive, but his eyes trained on her with such intensity that it knocks the breath of out of her ribs.

She meets his eyes just for a second, and there is something so raw in them she has to look away. And she can't tell exactly what it is that's there - anger, desire, want, loss, grief? But whatever it is its powerful. And in return, something inside her stirs.

She tries to turn her attention back to her brother and his questions about her flight and pick up the biscuit from her plate but she feels suddenly, violently _sick_.

So sick that a moment later she's running for the door, hands pressed against her mouth, desperate and shaky.

And even before she's reached the door, Jasper's magically opened it and has his hand pressed against her back escorting her out of the room, strong and steady, seeing the way ahead for her that she can't in her blind haste.

She's had this twice before, once two days ago when she was walking around outside a villa by herself and five days ago when she was having breakfast with Sebastian. But this feels worse still.

A few seconds later, Robbie is out in the corridor by her side even as she's dropped to her knees and is dry wretching against the floor.

She hasn't vomited, thank God, but she feels as if her stomach is revolting against everything inside it all the same.

And there is a ringing in her ears but she can hear Robbie ordering Jasper around and then his footsteps moving further away.

It's Robbie's announcement that he's sent Jasper for the Doctor which sets her off.

"You can't bloody do that," she hisses, grabbing at his coat desperately. "I don't want the doctor here," she snaps.

"Next thing all the servants will be gossiping and everyone will know," she adds, and her voice has an edge of panic.

Robbie's looking down at her and his face is gentle with a look of genuine concerning creasing across his brow. "What will they know? If you're sick you should see the doctor," he tells her.

She looks back at him, and something about her expression is so hopeless that he suddenly clicks as to why his sister who is pale, clammy and dry wretching in the corridor desperately doesn't want to see the Palace doctor.

"You're pregnant," he states.

She looks at him and suddenly her brother is gone and back at her looks the King as a flash of anger and then judgement settles on his face so that she has to drop her eyes.

 _I should have told Liam_ , she thinks for a moment before the words of apology start tumbling out of her.

"I know its terrible and I know I'm letting down the family, and Dad and Mum and you and I'm sorry Robbie, I'm so sorry, if I could change this-"

Robbie cuts her off quickly and his earlier expression has been replaced with a grimace of a smile. "I'm not going to say this isn't going to be a challenge but I'm sure we will be able to sort everything out satisfactorily."

Then he puts an arm around her and draws her into a hug and she leans into him as if she were still six and any problem in the world could be fixed by her big brother.

And for a moment is almost works to erase the worry from her mind.

Until she remembers there's still _Jasper._


	3. Chapter 3

_Thanks for your reviews, and please keep sharing your comments and thoughts. One of your questions will be answered this chapter. Thanks_

* * *

By the time Jasper gets the message the doctor isn't required, he's already on his way.

Of course, as soon as he'd made the call Robert had instructed him to, he immediately tried to find his way back.

To Robert officially, but he only had eyes for Eleanor.

Eleanor - who he'd been thinking of every day and every night ever since she left the Palace. And Eleanor who almost as soon as she saw him, had turned a whiter shade of pale and had stumbled out of room and collapsed in the corridor.

He wasn't sure what the hell was wrong with her. One minute she'd looked perfectly fine. Elegant, beautiful, as always. The next minute she looked like she was dying.

He hoped like hell she wasn't back on the drugs again.

If Sebastian had anything to do with that, he was going to KILL him. Single handedly rip him apart limb by limb until only his stupid, annoyingly handsome head, with his smarmy little smirk was left.

Because every night when he's thinking of her, he's wondering about _them._ Whether there is a them.

Because Jasper's a lot of things but he's not stupid. And it's been obvious from day one that if Eleanor's had Sebastian in the friend zone, his attraction to her is perfectly apparent. And in Jasper's book that means he's biding his time, waiting for his moment to make a move on her. And its tormenting him to wonder if he's acted on his intentions, and if he she's let him. A vision of him on top of her, naked, as her leg winds its way around his back floats into his brain and it makes him want to punch something.

His brows knit together into a scowl as he stalks back down the corridor, only to find the Princess has vanished from view.

He makes his way to her room, and then tentatively knocks on the door.

He waits a good 30 seconds before Robert finally opens the door and steps outside.

"Good of you to call the doctor, but fortunately Eleanor is feeling much recovered now. You can inform him he won't be needed," Robert tells him. "It may have been a touch of Moroccan street cuisine," he adds by way of explanation.

Jasper's half relieved and half unconvinced by the explanation, because it was only a few minutes ago she looked half-way dying. And even if she was _slumming it_ decking out luxury villas, he hardly thinks its likely Eleanor would resort to eating street food.

He would say more, ask more questions, but he doesn't need to be told he's not her boyfriend anymore by King Robert Know Your Place Henstridge.

"Is there anything she requires?" he asks instead, a question that's perfectly proper for his role.

But Robert doesn't need to know that the reason he's asking is because he still considers his sister is his girl. That she'll always be his girl.

"Jane has brought her some tea. Thank you Jasper."

With that he's dismissed and Robert shuts the door on him.

And he's left wondering when, _if,_ he'll ever get to see _her._

* * *

Her mother swans in along with Liam and asks her some questions about how she's feeling.

She seems to have brought the line Robert's fed her about the Moroccan food, and starts rabbiting on about how when they went to stay in a Maharajas Palace in Kashmir, her father got terrible Delhi belly and had to cancel his appearances for three days.

And she wants to get rid of her after only five minutes because she was feeling better but if she continues on sharing far too much information about her father's bowels she's going to be heaving over the toilet very soon.

Robbie's been watching the whole conversation, and he has the common sense to tell her mother that he needs her to discuss the speech she is giving on his behalf at the Royal Regatta. Liam decides to piss off too, seeing that his sister is now fine and its none too soon for Robert.

And then they're alone once more, and Eleanor plucks at the sheets and wonders where the conversations going to go.

Robert seats himself in the chair by her bed, and folds his long legs.

"Given the circumstances we can make the arrangements for a wedding. Something swift and low key, yet befitting both your Royal statuses.'

Eleanor blinks and stares back at her brother, before she twigs as to what the hell he's talking about.

"It's not Sebastian's baby. And you can't just marry me off by Royal decree," she corrects him, defensively, crossing her arms.

She doesn't miss Robert's annoyance that his neatly worked out solution has just been ripped apart.

He narrows his eyes. "Don't tell me my bloody body guard has managed to knock you up as part of his extra curricular activities?" he asks crossly.

And Eleanor can tell from his voice that he considers this the worst outcome ever.

She hasn't replied but he can already tell from her face that that is _exactly_ what's happened.

And Robert doesn't say a word either but gets to his feet abruptly, and strides towards the door.

The door slams with a bang after him, and if Eleanor had been on her feet the noise would have been loud enough to make her jump.

Robert stalks down the corridor.

One of two things is going to happen pretty soon.

Either he's going to make it to the gym without encountering anyone else and pummel his fist into a punching bag.

Or he's going to see Jasper Frost along the way and smash his fist into his face for ruining his little sister's life.


	4. Chapter 4

_Thanks for your reviews everyone. More story below._

* * *

After lunch she's called into Robert's State Room.

He's sitting behind an imposing desk, looking every inch the King, but stands when she enters.

"Lenny," he says and his voice is gentle and welcoming as he bids her to sit down.

Eleanor perches uncomfortably on the chair opposite him and waits for whatevers coming next.

Robert steeps his fingers together and watches her.

"I know that things got off to a bad start this morning but it's great to have you back. I've missed you and so has Mum," he tells her, sounding genuine.

"I've missed you too Robbie," Eleanor swallows and replies back. Maybe Robbie's coming around. Maybe he'll be in her corner, like she hoped he would.

Robbie gets up and walks around his desk then sits himself on his desk, just in front of her.

"We do need to talk about your situation and what's best to be done," he tells her.

Much as Eleanor would like to ignore her 'situation' as Robbie calls it for as long as possible, part of her has to admit he's right. She nods slightly.

"Does Jasper know?" he asks.

Eleanor shakes her head. "No. I'm going to tell him, I'm just not sure how to do it," she admits.

She has no idea how the hell to break the news to him or what his reaction will be. And she's afraid he's not going to take the news well.

She's pretty sure she can date the timing of it all to Christmas Eve.

When she thinks back to that time she seemed so impossibly naive.

Just before dinner she'd written Jasper another letter only this one was _the_ letter where she'd told him she loved him.

Then she's gotten dressed in an expensive short silk dress to attend a Christmas Eve ball.

By midnight she was so drunk she could barely stand and Jasper having been given the night off was almost as pissed as she was.

They'd stumbled into the tunnels and he'd taken her against the wall again and again and she was so drunk on expensive French Champaybe and love that she didn't even think about protection.

So although he told her the next day that he didn't get her anything for Christmas, she thinks now, a little bitterly, that he was wrong because he'd already left her with something both more precious and far more troublesome than the finest jewels.

Jasper Frost, who told her the next day that he _didn't do relationships_ and then later back tracked and decided to tell her she was his girl and that he was going to love her no matter what.

Four weeks apart and she still hadn't got her head straight about what he actually felt for her, and what she actually felt for him. And whether there was any chance of them ever having something together.

There being a baby involved didn't make anything clearer, only far more complicated that she could have ever imagined.

"I think at present you'd best keep the news to yourself for the time being," Robbie's words bring her back to earth and she stares back at him.

He continues solemnly. "We haven't discussed this before because I understood that your relationship had cooled. But as your brother and your King I do need to tell you that you and Jasper could never be sanctioned. Even if I gave my blessing Parliament would never agree to your marrying an American with a criminal record. Unfortunately there is no future for such a relationship and never will be," Robbie tells her.

His words make her heart fall. Because she knows that they're true, but hearing him spell it out so clearly is an end to any hope she has had that there might be some sort of happy ending for her and her baby with Jasper Frost, even if the chance that they could both get their shit together sufficiently to make some sort of future together seems like only a vague possibility.

Eleanor blinks back the tears, and doesn't reply. Because what is there to say?

It's at this point that Robbie leans forward and passes her a list.

"I asked Willow to prepare a list of possible matches for you. And before you say anything please hear me out," he continues as Eleanor stares fixedly at the list showing the names of a dozen eligible European nobles.

"I know that an arranged marriage is not what you would have hoped for. But the alternative if you decide to have a child alone is that you will be exposed to merciless attack from the tabloids and the establishment and the stigma from that will attach to your child as well. You are my only sister and I'm suggesting this as a way to protect you from that. All of the men on the list are all decent chaps from good families. You needn't stay married to them forever. If you don't want to stay with them you could reach an amiable divource after the child is born and still come out of this all without any scandel attaching to your child."

"I don't-" Eleanor starts to protest, tearily, still looking at the list of names.

"Take the time to think it over," Robert tells her, interrupting. "The way I see it its the best of the options you have available to you."

He gets to his feet and deposits a kiss on her cheek. "I'm due in Parliament shortly," he says. "Do promise me you won't do anything rash in the meantime," he adds, raising his eyebrows.

Eleanor nods, brushing the tears from her eyes.

As soon as Robert leaves, she pulls herself to her feet and makes her way back to her bedroom.

There's a glimpse of Jasper Frosts head retreating down the corridor behind her brother but she steels herself to turn away from him.

* * *

Two hours later after Robert's finished his address to Parliament he's back at the Palace and entertaining the Foreign Minister for an audience.

There's no call for Jasper to be on duty so he makes his way to the kitchen in search of a coffee.

Even before he enters he can hear the busybody tones of Maggie, the plump Chief Housemaid of the East wing engaged in a chit chat with Barb, the Chef's assistant and her co-conspirator in uncovering the latest in Palace gossip.

"A right to do it was, let me tell you. The Princess was out of the room in a flash and looking like she was going to heave all over the Turkish rugs in the main hall."

The other clucks her tongue. "You'd never get the stench of vomit out of them foreign carpets. Champagnes bad enough."

"If I'm not mistaken they'll be a shotgun wedding and an announcement about a Royal baby on the way very soon," Jasper's entered the room to see Maggie lean forward conspiratorially. "I've had five kids meself and I can spot the signs. The Princesses' been looking right peaky all day."

Barb's nods in agreement. "Was bound to happen sooner or later the way she carries on. What's her latest fella called - Prince whatshisface of Morocco."

It's at that moment they both look up to see Jasper standing in the doorway, staring back at both of them, eyebrows knotted together.

Maggie's mouth falls open, while Barb looks back at him, shamefacedly.

Barb's gathering her thoughts together enough to decide the best course of action is to offer him a cup of tea and pretend their earlier conversation never happened.

She gets up to put the kettle on but by the time she turns around he's already gone.

"You know he was the bodyguard who the Princess took a fancy to. Kept waking up the Butler with their carrying on at night," Maggie informs her. "Maybe he's the one who knocked her up," she speculates, narrowing her eyes as she considers it.

"Can't say I blame her. If I was thirty years younger I'd give him a run myself," Barb announces and they both burst into peals of laughter.


	5. Chapter 5

_Thanks for your reviews. The plot thickens._

* * *

It only takes Eleanor five minutes to pick up her phone and text her brother to say that she won't, she could never, marry a stranger she doesn't love.

 _Sorry_ , she adds at the end because even if she can't see his face she can imagine her brother's disappointment in her decision and what it will mean for the family.

Everything that's happened today is so draining that she desperately wants a drink.

Self-denial has been a new experience for her over the past few weeks, and being someone's bloody _mother_ adds a terrifying and daunting new dimension to this.

She's still thinking about the fact that sooner or later she'll have to tell Jasper.

Part of her thinks that maybe she should just do it now, like ripping off a bandage, because if its going to be painful then its best done fast.

But she can't even find the energy to get to her feet to ring the bell. And her stomach flips at the thought of telling him.

Instead, she drops onto her bed and hugs a cushion to her heart.

Her hand strays to her stomach and her breath hitches as she wonders if her child will ever have a chance if the world is against it even before it draws breath.

* * *

He can't stop thinking about Eleanor ever since he left the kitchen.

He can't stop wondering if it could be true that Eleanor being ill this morning was because she's pregnant. To _Sebastian._

For the past four weeks he'd been holding onto hope that one day, sometime in the next few months, Eleanor would return and they would have a future together.  
Or that he would at least have a shot at it, a chance to prove himself once more. To show her that he loves her.

But Eleanor having a baby with Sebastian would so effectively end any hopes he has of being with her that he feels like walking out of the Palace right now, and taking the first flight back to Vegas. Because if she's pregnant, being a Royal Princess, a hasty marriage is almost certainly on the cards.

He wants to punch someone. Preferably Sebastian who's not even in the country.

He wants to cry because every thought and dream he's had over the past year has centred on Eleanor.

He wants to tell her _again_ , that he's so goddamn sorry, for all the ways he's wronged her.

He still wants to kiss her. He wants her body and her mind and her stupid goddamn lippy mouth and her beautiful face and body which fits perfectly to him and under him.

He wants all of her and _nobody else will do_.

But now it seems she doesn't belong to him anymore.

* * *

So he doesn't go to her, even though he wants to more than anything.

Instead he stands erect, with hands balled into fists, waiting outside Prince Robert's office for him to emerge.

He does so after another half hour, but tells Jasper he's just going to see his mother and he can remain at his post.

He stays in the same position for two minutes before it occurs to him that maybe he'll find something out about Eleanor's situation inside Robert's office. About whether there is a baby and whether they're planning a marriage to Sebastian and _he has to know_.

He slips inside the door, figuring he'll just erase that footage this evening, and makes his way to the desk.

A minute later he's into Robert's emails. The time lock hasn't activated yet. He trawls through a dozen in items which reveal nothing.

Then he goes to his sent items and clicks onto those.

The first one is just an email telling his press secretary to change the time of a media interview.

But the second one is more intriguing.

It reads, " _Need you to procure some misoprostol and drop it to me tonight. You must be very discreet and hand it only to me. No one else. R."_

Jasper doesn't recognise the email address which is not a name anyway but a series of numbers.

He writes down the name misoprostol and scrolls through some more emails which reveal nothing unusal.

A few minutes later he's standing back outside the room again as if he'd never left.

In his hand he holds his phone and he's on google.

It's only once he types in the term misoprostol and pulls up what it means that his brain starts to go into a meltdown.

Because why would Robert ask someone to bring him a drug which induces abortions in secret tonight unless he had something very, very disturbing planned.

And its _his Princess_ , Eleanor, who is in danger.


	6. Chapter 6

Eleanor's putting the final touches on her outfit for the intimate dinner party her mother has planned to celebrate her birthday when she gets a message that Liam wants to meet her in the tunnels.

She takes a minute to apply a final touch of eyeliner and put on her heels. She's dressed in a short black A-line mini and a black mesh top with silver bangles at her wrists.

She finds the message decidedly odd, because Liam isn't usually so furtive about his movements as to ask her to meet in the tunnels.

But she figures, its hard to know what's up with her brother these days, given that he and Robbie still seem to be locked in some kind of war over who the legitimate King should be, even though the Privy Council sided with Robbie.

Five minutes later she's made her way underground and is leaning against the walls in the dimly lit tunnels, waiting expectantly for Liam to appear.

Only its not him that emerges from the shadows but someone else.

Someone who makes her heart race.

He takes a moment to stroke her cheek and her breath hitches at his touch.

The next moment he's suddenly all business.

"There's a security threat to you. I need to remove you from the Palace," he tells her, and his face is deadly serious.

"What?" Eleanor questions, taking in a breath. She can still feel the trace of his hand against her skin and his touch evokes so many feelings she can't decipher.

"Someone is trying to harm you. I need you to accompany me now," Jasper tells her.

"Who? Why?" Eleanor steps back, confused. And why wasn't Rosie informed about this?

"If I told you, you wouldn't believe me," Jasper tells her sharply, and his lips tighten.

Eleanor frowns, and watches him wide eyed. "And if I don't?" she challenges, because she's not sure what exactly _this_ is.

Only six weeks ago she would have followed this man to the ends of the earth. And then he broke her heart one time too many and _yes_ part of her still loves him, but whether she can ever trust him again is another matter entirely.

"If you don't then I'll be forced to take matters into my own hands," Jasper replies promptly.

Eleanor takes in a sharp breath. "You're saying you'd kidnap me?" she demands.

"Goddammit Eleanor," Jasper exclaims exploding as he runs his hand through his hair. "All I want is to keep you safe," he says urgently. "That's all I've ever wanted. You're my girl and I'll protect you no matter what. So can we just cut the bullshit and just get out of here. Your security is compromised," he adds her gravely, now switching over to use security jargon.

He grabs her hand, and its like the old days when he would take command of her body and heart and always had to be in control.

"Come on," he tells her, heading towards the way out with her in tow.

Eleanor hesitates, and thinks about struggling or protesting. And its probably her weak, foolish heart which is always leading her astray that makes a snap decision to trust Jasper Frost one last fateful time.

She compromises by hissing, "there better be a bloody good reason for this," in reply instead.

"There's more than one life at stake here," Jasper replies back sharply.

And Eleanor wonders again, as she's dragged towards the secret west entrance to the Palace, why he always insists on being so cryptic.

* * *

Four minutes later they've exited the tunnels and a black Audi is waiting outside. Not a Palace vehicle, because they're always Rovers, but still expensive and discreet.

Jasper bundles her into the car with a surprising lightness of touch before she's even accustomed herself to daylight.

He presses his foot to the pedal and his hands tighten on the wheel as he speeds away.

"Put your seatbelt on," he orders, brusquely.

And there is nothing new here, because Jasper's always been sparse with words, with a desperate need to be in control.

Eleanor leans back in her seat and rolls her eyes, but complies.

Next thing Eleanor pulls out her phone, and Jasper's sharp enough to spot it in her hands through the mirror.

"Give me your phone," he demands.

Eleanor raises an eyebrow in surprise but leans forward and passes it to him.

A second later Jasper flips the switch to lower the window by his side, and then he lobs the phone out the door.

Eleanor stares open mouthed. "What the bloody hell did you do that for?" she demands, angrily, then leans forward to smack Jasper on his head.

She observes with satisfaction the scowl on his face from where her touch smarts against his skin.

"I've decided I don't want to go with you now. You can turn the car around or it's kidnapping. And I'm not above sending you back to prison," she announces haughtily.

"It's for your security, Princess," he drawls back, sounding irritated. "Through your phone your whereabouts can be traced with GPS. No phone, no ability to track you," he tells her.

Once corrected, Eleanor is never one to admit defeat.

"Well, you might have told me that before you lobbed it out the window. Communication was never one of your strong points Jasper," she moralises.

Jasper raises an eyebrow and looks back at her in the mirror. "Well maybe in the interests of communication we should clarify where things stand now. With you and Sebastian," he tells her.

Eleanor meets his eye and then her gaze slides towards the Thames as they speed down London's streets.

She draws a breath, "It's complicated."


	7. Chapter 7

Thanks for your reviews, nother chapter below quite short as I am super busy currently at work which is taking up most of my weekends

* * *

Jasper doesn't miss a beat after Eleanor tells him its complicated with Sebastian.

"Complicated how?" he demands, hands tightening at the wheel.

Eleanor draws a breath. "Complicated like nothing's gone to plan and everything's a shitshow," she tells him.

But she won't look him in the eye, and has her face fixed on the river.

"And Robbie-," she starts, then breaks off, and her lips press together like she wishes she'd never started.

And Jasper knows exactly what she means. Because although she may be his favourite baby sister, King Robert was sure to have made his supreme displeasure known to her upon hearing the news that she'd been accidentally knocked up out of wedlock.

"Robbie," he repeats, raising an eyebrow as a prompt.

Eleanor twists her fingers in her lap. "Is disappointed in me," she finishes. And it still weighs heavy on her that once again she's let down someone she loves.

"And Sebastian?," Jasper questions, and his tone is demanding. Even though he thinks she's going to break his heart. He has to know.

"I think he might be disappointed too," Eleanor tells him, but doesn't elaborate.

Jasper's eyebrows knot together in the centre of his forehead. Is she saying that Sebastian won't support her? Is he walking away from her now?

"I thought he was a good guy." The remark comes out through gritted teeth.

Because Jasper's always been possessive and even seeing another man near Eleanor sets off his jealousy radar.

But try as he might, he's never managed to find fault with Sebastian for his treatment of Eleanor.

"He is," she replies back. "It's just, things got confused over there. With us. With me. With everything."

Eleanor looks up to find Jasper staring her down from the mirror and immediately regrets her words.

"So you're fucking him then," Jasper states, cool as ice. But his expression is thoroughly dangerous.

"We're not a thing," Eleanor immediately corrects him. "Anything that happened was an accident," she adds defensively.

"Anything like sex?" Jasper demands aggressively, still fixed on her face in the back seat.

And she doesn't even have to say it because he can see if from the expression that flits across her face that looks a lot like guilt that clearly there was some sex involved. He knows Eleanor. It was his job just to watch her, every hour of every day for six months. And she's no actress.

Eleanor jumps slightly in the back seat when Jasper thumps his fist on the dashboard all of a sudden and tears prick in her eyes because here is one more person she's disappointed.

"I'm sorry Jasper. I'm so sorry. I never meant for anything to happen. I was really, really drunk," she pleads with him.

He's too angry to even look at her face now, but he can hear the tremble in her voice and tell that she's crying without needing to see the evidence.

And from the back seat, Eleanor thinks that Sebastian's disappointment that she didn't want to take things further after their drunken mistake is _nothing_ compared to Jasper's wroth on finding out what happened. Or the way her heart hurts when she looks at his face in the mirror and he won't even look back at her.

And it's exactly as she told him a couple of minutes ago.

Nothing's gone to plan.

Everything's a shitshow.

And her life continues to fall apart as they speed further away from whatever unknown security threat can be added to her mountain of troubles.


	8. Chapter 8

When she wakes its already morning and she's draped across an unrecognizable bed, in a foreign room.

Out the window the landscape is unfamiliar to her, but she's sure its not England.

She can't be sure where, but its somewhere Mediterranean.

Her eyebrows furrow together as she tries to remember how she got here, but she can't. So does that mean Jasper carried her up here, wherever here is, in the dark and deposited her here?

She lays in bed for another ten minutes before she finally has the energy to roll herself out of bed.

In the lounge, Jasper's thrown himself on the couch, suit tie loosened and looking dishevelled.

And because its been so long, and he seems deep in slumber, she strokes a finger across his face.

Because, yes, she did once admit to herself that once upon a time she was in love with him. Maybe she still is. She can't tell for sure.

She makes her way to the kitchen and pulls open the fridge. It's disappointingly bare, with only milk inside.

She glances round the rest of the kitchen and apartment and scowls to herself.

It's all so _common_. There's even a faded print in laminated plastic on the wall. The only places she used to that kind of tack in are the retirement villages she was occasionally forced to visit.

Sadly, there's no E here to make this place any less depressing than it appears.

She moves to the cupboard and pulls out a mug.

There are two culinary skills she has acquired for herself. One is making toast with jam on it, or peanut butter.

Two is making a cup of tea, which she decides she will now demonstrate.

She fills the jug and turns on the switch, and places the cup beside it.

In the minute it takes for the jug to boil she walks around the remaining uninspected reaches of the sad little apartment.

There's one thing that catches her eye as she crosses by the doorway, which is the telephone by her bedside.

She's thinking about making a call to the Palace and placing an order.

 _I going to need some clothes sent over here, two packs of cigarettes, my iPhone and some bloody alcohol just in case._

She's even picked up the receiver before it occurs to her that she has no idea where she currently is.

While she's musing over it, a hand slams down the receiver and then tears the phone out of the wall socket. Perhaps the whistle of the kettle woke him from sleep.

Eleanor folds her arms as she eyes Jasper disapprovingly. Jasper is never content to do things by halves and he now seems to be pulling the phone apart so its permanently unusable.

"Is this really necessary Jasper?" Eleanor questions.

Jasper doesn't reply, staying on task with the phone.

"You know disconnecting the phone does seem a lot like something a serial killer would do. Or a kidnapper," Eleanor adds, mostly in the hope of provoking a reply out of him.

"If I was a serial killer I'd have left you dead by the roadside several hours ago once you started getting lippy Princess," Jasper corrects her. "This is a _security_ measure," he clarifies, through gritted teeth.

"To protect me from crank callers? Or telemarketers?" Eleanor questions, raising an eyebrow.

"To protect you from yourself. Or who you might call," Jasper mutters darkly.

"What does _that_ mean?" Eleanor challenges again.

But Jasper has turned away from her, and she doesn't get a reply.

She follows him from the bedroom to the kitchen, and slides herself onto the kitchen counter top.

Jasper goes to get himself a mug and makes a coffee, then makes her tea.

He knows the way she likes it, done properly, with a teapot and tea leaves. A little milk, no sugar.

He passes her a cup and saucer while he rests against the bench, drinking coffee.

And all the time he's watching her when she's not looking.

To him, she's never been more beautiful than now, her feet bare and her hair down her back in messy glossy waves, skirt just skimming over her hips and her mesh top clinging to new and more rounded curves.

Eleanor is the only thing he's wanted or thought about these past four weeks, and seeing her in the flesh, the desire to touch her, to hold her, and to have her, is worse than it ever was before.

But of everything he's learnt in the past few months, he knows that he won't be getting everything he wants, and that she is too good for him. By far.

"Why did you bring me here?" Eleanor questions, raising an eyebrow as she breaks the silence.

He thinks about giving her the answer he's offered so many times before. _I wanted to see you._

And it's the truth - but only part of the truth.

And he half knows that she's never going to believe his answer, but he can't keep her here for weeks without offering some kind of explanation.

He clears his throat and looks her in the eye. "Somebody is threatening you. I had to remove you from the Palace because it was unsafe for you to stay there."

In her eyes he can see both fear and defiance. "Who is threatening me? Why are they doing this?" she demands, eyeballing him.

"I won't tell you who, but it's someone you would never suspect. Someone you think is on your side. That's why they're so dangerous," Jasper tells her.

He doesn't miss the wobble of her lip, and the rattle of her cup and saucer, before she rights herself and puts her chin in the air like a princess.

He takes a step towards her and places his hands on hers, steadying the cup in her hand and then setting them both aside to shift closer to her, standing right in front of her.

"Someone who knows your pregnant and who doesn't want your baby to live. That's why I had to take you away from there. Because I could never let them hurt you," he tells her, stepping closer to her and placing a hand in her hair.

His gesture is so reminiscent of before, when they were together, and it reeks of intimacy that half of her wants to cry for what they once had which is now forgotten and half of her wants to slap his hand away for presuming he can touch her like that now, when everything has changed.

And the other part of her that shivers and burns from his touch and his breath on her cheek she won't acknowledge, even to herself.

But in the end she doesn't cry or slap him, just stares back at him as her eyes widen and her mouth falls open at his revelation.

She wonders _how_ could he have possibly known she was pregnant. And what does he really think about this, under the business like exterior he's been operating under today. Why doesn't he _say something_ about how he feels?

And looking back at her, Jasper vows once again that he's going to keep her safe from harm.

Even if the person trying to harm her, her own brother, is the most powerful man in England.


	9. Chapter 9

_Thanks for all your reviews and pleas that you need another chapter soon, so here it is_

* * *

Eleanor pushes him away from her sharply once she's gathered her wits.

"How on earth could you possibly know that?" she demands.

Jasper's not sure whether she's asking him to tell her how he knows she's pregnant or how she knows she's at risk, or both.

"It's my job to know things and to ascertain any threats to the Royal family," he reasons.

Eleanor slumps back into the chair, and makes a noise that sounds despairing.

"You have to understand that none of this was what I wanted or planned," she tells him.

And she's trying to blink the tears away from her eyes and out of her voice.

"I know that," Jasper assures her. "I didn't want to have to take you away from your family. But I had to do so for your own safety."

Eleanor nods slightly, as if the effort of speaking is too much for her.

There's a silence and then she speaks again. "I'm should have told you about the-" she breaks off and takes a breath as if gearing herself up to give it a name for the first time, "baby. I just didn't know how to tell you. It's not easy to explain," she adds.

Robbie's the only other person who she's told about this and he promptly went about trying to arrange a marriage for her as if it were the 1950s and she was a naughty schoolgirl who'd got herself in trouble.

All she wanted was for someone to try and understand her point of view on this.

"You don't have to explain yourself to me," Jasper tells her, but he's turning away from her as he says it, like its somehow painful to him.

"Whatever you do, and whatever you say, you have to know that I'll still care about you. I can't change that," he says, still with his back turned to her.

And even though his words should be comforting, having him say them with his back turned to her feels like rejection. Of her. And the fact that she's a bloody idiot for having let herself knocked up by him when she's a Princess. And under no circumstances do Princesses get pregnant without a wedding ring on their fingers.

She's felt the bitter sting of rejection from him before, but it still cuts.

"Don't you-" she starts, breaking off, trying to find her way, groping for the words.

Doesn't he feel anything - for her? For their child?

Why has he turned his back on her when she needs him to _say something_ , to _feel something_.

Even if he's angry with her. Just so she knows he's not an emotionless zombie, and that the baby has a father.

"Why won't you bloody say something?" she explodes at him.

Finally he turns around to her and faces her head on. His face is strangely devoid of emotion.

"I didn't end up like this by myself," she adds, angrily, sweeping a hand over her stomach.

A dark shadow crosses his face like she's somehow enraged him with her words.

"What do you want from me," Jasper explodes loudly, suddenly, running a hand through his hair like a desperate man.

"Isn't it enough to know that he's had you, god knows how many times, and that you chose him - not me. When we were together I used to think about us being married and having children. So now he's stolen my girl and my future," he adds angrily.

"And I'm sorry if I can't fucking congratulate you on your baby when it means I've lost everything I ever wanted in the process," he adds savagely, then stalks away from her as if in despair.

Eleanor's staring back at him as if he's a madman, and has exhausted her with his words.

She stands stock still for a moment, then drops into a chair nearby and folds her hands together.

"You do realise the baby is yours, not Sebastians," she states factually as he approaches the door, as if this should have been obvious to him from day one.

Now it's Jasper's turn to freeze and he stands there for a good minute just staring at her, with no words.

And then he steps forward, slow and careful in his movements, and his hand reaches out to cup her chin and lift her face towards him.

His lips brush against hers, at first gently, then harder as passion flares.

She makes a noise like a sigh and slides back into the seat as he presses her back into the chair. His lips on hers, body flush against hers.

And now are together again finally, like they were in the beginning, and always should have been.


	10. Chapter 10

Thanks for all your reviews, and here is another chapter,. Some of you sound really desperate to read it. And I mean that in a nice way, not a negative way! Appreciate your support.

* * *

Jasper kisses her like a desperate man, and she lets herself drown in him and in the memories it brings up. His cologne, his lips on hers, the warmth of his skin on her cheek.

His hand slips down to her waist and tightens and she knows where his mind is headed. So many nights they were together and she could tell just from the look in his eyes what he wanted from her before he told her. Ordered her to follow.

She is the one who breaks the spell, as her fingertips press him back from her sharply.

He stumbles a little at her touch, not from her force, but because he was so immersed in her that he's almost lost his sense of balance.

"It's not that easy Jasper," Eleanor tells him, folding her arms across her chest, and lifting her chin.

"I appreciate your trying to keep me safe. And that you weren't deliberately trying to be a wanker over this...situation. But four months ago I decided to forgive you for every reprehensible, shitty thing you did to me after you met me, and then six weeks ago you broke my heart."

He doesn't miss the way her lip wobbles after she's uttered her last sentence.

He knows her hurt her. A lot.

When he broke up with her at Christmas everything he did and said was cold and deliberate. To make her hate him and never look back.

So that she could be free and have no regrets over the bastard who broke her heart.

Only in ripping out her heart, he'd broken his own in the process.

Jasper swallows and clears his throat, struggling to find the words.

"I was trying to protect you. They knew about me and my past. And I know all the things I've done and that I'm shit and I can live with that. But I can't live with the things I've done hurting you, or people judging you because of my mistakes," he tells her.

He takes a step towards her. "You deserve better than that."

He's takes two more steps towards her, slow and steady and deliberate. And she knows he's trying to wheedle his way back into her heart, just like he's wheedling his way into her personal space, and is now standing right in front of her.

"You deserve everything you want Eleanor."

It's something about his last line that breaks her. She's still so unused to anyone recognising her as a person, with hopes and dreams and potential, and not just a title and a tiara.

"I can't do this with us right now. A relationship. But I can't do this alone either," she states, and her eyes fill with tears.

Ever since she found out a week ago, the feelings associated with knowing she is pregnant with a child that will upset every one of her family members, the tabloid press and in fact the entire nation, have been overwhelming.

The rare moments when Eleanor lets down her guard and shows her vulnerability are the times when Jasper loves her most of all.

And right now his heart burns fierce for her.

He puts his hand out to her, offering it, and she looks up at him, confused, then takes it after a minute.

He draws her up and takes her arm and walks two steps over to the sofa then seats both of them down.

He sits back into the sofa and pulls her back into his chest to rest against him, and _again_ she thinks of before, of the times she used to sit against his muscular form and feel safe and protected as they watched TV or talked together.

"Whatever you want or need you can have. If you need some space I'll give you that. If you want to think, you can do that here," Jasper tells her into her ear.

Eleanor just nods and closes her eyes. "Ok," she agrees with relief.

After a moment she turns her head to look at him.

"Are you disappointed in me? Are you upset that I'm pregnant?" she asks, and he can hear the vulnerability in her voice. He knows she's thinking of her father, and Robert.

 _Tell me I haven't let you down._

Jasper shifts under her and his voice goes tight.

"When I thought that the baby was Sebastian's the idea made me totally crazy. I wanted to punch something. And it made it so fucking clear for me that the only baby you should be having was _my_ baby, and the only man you should be loving was _me._ And if you need more time to sort everything out in your head then I'll give you that. But I'm never going to stop wanting you and needing you," and his voice sounds so determined that Eleanor looks up at him sharply.

His fingers trace over her face and wipe a tear track away. And Eleanor lets him, sinks into his touch even.

He drops his hand eventually and settles it around her.

"When did it happen?" he asks.

"Christmas Eve. When we got drunk after the ball," Eleanor tells him.

He remembers. Alcohol running through his veins and even more in hers. Running fast down into the tunnels and pushing her against the wall.

Her legs hitched around his hips and his cock thrusting inside her and his mouth on her hair and lips and skin.

She'd collapsed into his arms with his name on her lips just as he shuddered into her and he'd breathed into her ear, "I love you."

So he had told her first. She just didn't remember it.

They never used protection that time, and now he thinks about it, it seems almost obvious in retrospect that something would come of that night.

Her body fit so perfectly to his, and there had been so much desperation and desire and emotion between them it had ignited something neither of them could have imagined.

He turns to look at her and his voice is fierce. "Whatever came from that night is meant to be. Just like you're meant to me with me and I'm meant to be with you. And whatever happens I'll always keep you safe. And I'll protect our baby. For as long as I draw breath."

And Eleanor's not thinking with her head but with her heart when she shifts in closer against his chest and lets him tell her everything will be fine, that they'll be safe and that her baby will be protected because its what she longs to hear.

His hand wraps tight around hers while he makes a plan to keep their child safe and fight the rest of the world together.


	11. Chapter 11

Eleanor plays by the rules the first morning they're in France. Well mostly.

Jasper goes to the supermarket just before lunch and tells her, strictly, to stay inside with the doors locked.

Which she does for ten minutes, and then she is bored.

Outside the sun is shining and in the far distance she can see the sea. Outside everything is far more interesting than the cramped confines of the little apartment they're in.

She's not entirely stupid, and she does think to jam a hat on her head along with a pair of sunglasses before she grabs the room keys and makes for the door. And she thinks she's safer than Jasper thinks because in France, if she's not wearing a tiara or at an official function, most people don't recognise her. At the Paris clubs she could be anonymous in a way she never could in London.

And who would expect to find an English Princess in a sleepy, low key French seaside resort when its not even summer yet?

She takes a short stroll down the path which leads to the beach, and the flowers are alive with colour, while there's sunshine on her skin and the wind in her hair.

She can't stay long, because Jasper will have some of explosion if he finds out she's gone. And she knows the signs well enough. His eyebrows will knot together, his face will darken and his voice will take on a harsh, rough tone.

In the old days whenever she managed to annoy him, it would lead to him clamping his hand on her arm and escorting her out of the room, and locking the door of the bedroom, then proceeding to show her _who_ exactly was in control of the situation. And in control of her.

Part of her can't help but shiver at the memory.

She's almost back when she rounds a corner and there's a little phone box sitting by a small block of shops, and she hestitates for a moment then makes her way towards it and steps inside.

She doesn't have any money, but she can speak perfect French so dials the operator and instructs them to place a collect call for her.

She's only on the line for three minutes but its long enough to dial her brother's mobile and place a call to let him know that she is perfectly fine and he needn't worry about her.

And by the time Jasper gets home, four minutes after her, she's stretched out on the sofa, watching a French soap opera, as if she's been there all along, because as far as he's concerned she has been.

* * *

After dinner Jasper goes out to the car and takes out a briefcase. He sits at the coffee table and starts unpacking some notes from the briefcase.

Whatever it is looks boring, so Eleanor pays him no mind, and changes channels.

Geordie Shore translated into French is kind of reminiscent of some of her nights out in Paris, only everyone looks orange, and there is less drugs and more punching each other while talking in confusing, chavvish accents. It's somehow transfixes her.

Jasper gets up and sits down next to her on the couch, having made his mind up he's going to tell her. Not everything, but something she may be able to cope with as a start.

He passes her over a couple of pages of notes.

"These were in your father's email server. They were deleted from the system, but not from the backup memory. I found them when I was searching for your father's killer," he tells her.

His face and his tone is serious, and Eleanor reluctantly switches down the TV.

It's quiet as she reads through the first page, but her eyebrows draw closer together as she reads on.

She turns the page and reads on. "I can't believe Dad would do this. I can't believe he would go along with this," she exclaims in disbelief, violently.

Jasper shakes his head. "Keep reading," he tells her.

She does and finishes the email a minute later, then dumps the papers on the table and pushes the cushion she had on her lap away violently.

"I don't even know anything any more. How could they deceive everyone like that?," she rails, angrily, pacing across the room.

"Your father didn't know until a few months before his death. He was never part of it as far as I can tell."

He gets up and goes to her, puts his arms on hers and stills her pacing.

"If you know why they did this, then you have to tell me Jasper," Eleanor half-demands and half pleads, looking up at him. Ever the Princess, even in distress.

Jasper indicates to the sofa, and Eleanor sits down, drawn, silent, and waits for his explanation.

"This was your grandmother's doing mostly. I think your mother went along with it because she was in shock at the time. And, given the circumstances, it's almost understandable why they did it," he tells her. Because he's had a few months to think about their reasons, while Eleanor's only had moment's to absorb the information.

"When Robert was born he had a medical condition, a heart defect. The doctor's knew it was an issue, but thought he could still live a healthy life. It wasn't made public because your parents didn't want anyone to question Robert's right to inherit the throne when he grew. And its not the Royal way to give out personal information on medical issues," he adds.

Eleanor nods in agreement sharply.

"But his heart was weaker than the doctor's could detect, and when he was four week's old he was rushed to hospital. His heart stopped beating and he was pronounced dead shortly after arriving. Your father was overseas on a tour of Canada. But your grandmother was there with your mother. And she was the one who wouldn't allow the death to be announced. It seems she was also the one who came up with the idea that your brother hadn't died, and that all they needed to do was to find a baby to replace him and everything would be fine," he adds.

Eleanor's eyebrows shoot up. "But why," she questions, puzzled. "Why didn't they just tell everyone what had happened?"

"Your brother's birth was difficult, and the doctors advised there could be complications with later children. Your grandmother had spent ten years planning to marry your mother to the King. The birth of an heir secured her position as Queen. If her son was to die, and she wasn't able to produce another one, as your grandmother saw it her success would have turned to failure. And threatened your mother's place as Queen," Jasper tells her.

Eleanor sinks back in her sofa and ponders this. "Henry the Eighth," she says simply, after a moment.

Jasper nods. He's no history buff, but working for the Royal Family he had come to acquire some knowledge of the family's checked past. And Henry the Eighth was the man who had gone through six wives in search of a male heir, killing two and divorcing two others in the process. No heir equalled no stability of succession, which is why every Royal since that time had placed a high price on securing a son.

"So how did they find a baby? The other child, Robbie?" she asks. She's still struggling with the revelation that he's not her blood brother. But even if he's not genetically her brother, he'll always be so in her heart.

"He was put up for adoption. He looked like your real brother. Your grandmother made the arrangements or found some patsy to do the work for her," he tells her.

"She bloody would," Eleanor exclaims angrily. This was yet another revelation that confirmed that her grandmother was not the person she had loved and admired so much during her childhood.

"The nanny who had cared for your real brother was dismissed, and a nurse was employed to care for the new baby, along with a new nanny. None of the other staff were allowed and everyone was told his nurse recommended quiet and only the company of family. Your grandmother put it out to the media that the baby had had a tummy upset but was now fine. Your father didn't return from Canada for another three weeks and your grandmother took the baby away for another two week's once he arrived so by the time he saw him again he was a much older than when he had left. And finally the two doctors who had certified the baby's death both disappeared a couple of hours later. The body of one was found floating in the Thames and the other one never turned up," Jasper added.

"I can't believe she murdered more people," Eleanor adds, despairingly. Her grandmother was some kind of diamond clad grim reaper.

Jasper got her grandmother's measure pretty quick. He's met a lot of ruthless people in his line of business, and the old woman was calculating to the very core. A cold hard bitch who would arrange to kill anyone who got in her way, while serving hou's d'oeuvres and drinking champayne.

"So Dad never knew about this," Eleanor questions. Out of all of this she needs to be able to believe that _someone_ in her family is decent and true.

Jasper shakes his head. "No, not as far as I could tell. The baby they found had the right blood type and DNA testing wasn't really known about so your grandmother would have thought that no one would ever find out either. But your father did. I'm not sure how, but he emailed about what happened a few months before he died."

Eleanor slumps back in her seat and falls silent.

"Even if he's not my real brother, I'm still going to love him," she declares, with a set jaw.

"And Robbie should still be King. He was trained for it. He's the one who's had to deal with all the shit ever since he was born and he can handle it the best out of all of us," she announces.

He looks over to her face. Set, and determined, but also pale and exhausted.

Of course she would still defend her brother, even if he's not her brother. Of course she hasn't put two and two together yet, like he has.

But that's more than enough revelations for one night, he decides.


	12. Chapter 12

_Thanks for your reviews and please let me know how you're liking the story_

* * *

When Eleanor wakes the next morning, she already feels ill.

She spends the next ten minutes spewing her guts out over the toilet, while Jasper looks like he's having an aneurysm. Something like mild panic crossed his face when she bolted for the bathroom, and after hovering anxiously over her, he decided to make himself useful by holding her hair back from her face.

After the nausea has passed, Eleanor settles herself back against the wall of the bathroom, which she considers to be unreasonably small. She's exhausted and pale and its too much effort to get up by herself.

Jasper looks back at her still worried. "Is this normal?," he demands.

Eleanor shrugs, then attempts a reply. "I've had it before. It's fucking ridiculous that something so small could make me feel this ill," she moans.

She's still pressed against the wall, as Jasper comes closer and crouches down in front of her. He shifts a strand of her hair off her face ever so gently.

Eleanor stretches a hand upward, a signal for him to help her to her feet.

But Jasper does better than that, by swooping her upwards in his arms and carrying her out of bedroom.

And even though she's weak and shaken, it still feels good to have his arms around her, and feel the strength of his chest and shoulders, and have his breath on her cheek.

He sets her on the couch, and fetches her a glass of water.

She takes a sip while Jasper is watching her, considering.

She sets down the glass, and leans back. "What?" she challenges.

"Maybe its a boy," Jasper offers. "Seems like he might be trouble already," he adds.

Eleanor blinks. Until this moment she's never actually thought about the baby as a boy or girl, or a potential person.

The enormity of the problem a child would create, and the need to hide its existence for as long as possible had overshadowed everything else in her head.

"Yeah," Eleanor agrees. "Maybe he'll be an asshole like his Dad and making me sick is his way of showing it," she adds snidely.

Jasper raises an eyebrow. "Or maybe it's a girl and she's a high maintenance pain in the ass like her mother and _she's_ already showing it,' he quips back at her.

Eleanor scowls and throws a cushion at him, which he dodges adeptly, and then heads for the kitchen.

"Maybe you should eat something, it might help settle your stomach," he says.

Eleanor makes a face like food is the last thing she needs. "Juice is all I can cope with right now. Maybe in half an hour I could try some toast," she adds as a compromise.

* * *

In another hour, she's had her toast and Jasper has decided to go out to a pharmacy and look for something to help her morning sickness.

Eleanor's already feeling considerably better, so maybe the food is helping after all. She sits on the tiny balcony and stretches her legs out, hoping to get a tan.

Not five minutes have gone by before the bell by the door rings.

Eleanor gets up warily, and peers through the keyhole to check who it is, wondering if Jasper forgot his wallet already.

It's not Jasper, but its someone she knows and trusts, so she opens the door, her expression puzzled but she manages a smile.

"Robbie. How did you know where I was?" she questions. "And shouldn't you be running the country?"

He lifts an eyebrow back at her. "Firstly I'm the King of England so you might expect me to know a thing or two and secondly the country can do without me for 24 hours while I'm checking up on my favourite sister when she's run away to France with no explanation about what's going on" he questions.

Eleanor pulls back the door further and ushers him inside. "It was Jasper's idea," she tells him.

"He's convinced there's some security threat to me. Of course being Jasper he won't tell me what it is and is acting so bloody mysterious you would think he's James Bond with a rubbish accent and I'm an undercover Russian agent," Eleanor rolls her eyes.

Robert doesn't laugh at her joke though, or settle into a seat, but strolls around the little apartment inspecting it carefully.

On the table, he fingers the email Jasper has printed off, and picks it up.

Eleanor's mouth widens into an 'O' once she realises what he is reading, but she let's him read, realising its too late to stop him now.

By the time he finishes she's on her feet beside him. "Robbie, you musn't think that because of this Liam or I will love you any less. Or Mum," she offers. "You're still our brother and you'll always be."

She's watching him and waiting for him to look up, and when he does it's not the same Robbie she knows from before. He seems different - darker and harder to read than before.

"I knew before today," he tells her, putting the letter back onto the table. "Dad told me a couple of months before he died."

Eleanor's face falls at this, when she thinks about the pain it must have given both of them.

"He still loved you no matter what you did. You're still his son, the same as you're still our brother," she offers carefully, because she knows he must be hurting from the news, even if he's not showing it.

Robert raises an eyebrow. "Actually he didn't love me. Or want me to inherit the Crown," he corrects her, and his voice is harsh.

He takes a step towards her. "And you might love me like a sister, but I don't love you like a brother. Not anymore Lenny," and as he utters the words his hands slide around her shoulder's holding her tight and his hand slips over her face.

In his grasp there's a handkerchief and the stench of something strong and chemical fills her nostrils until she chokes on the vile smell and then slowly sways on her feet and into his waiting arms.

"That's it Len, come to me," he croons into her ear as his hand tightens around her waist and she slips deeper into unconsciousness.


	13. Chapter 13

_Thanks for your reviews and keep letting me know what you think. More Robbie this chapter_

* * *

When Eleanor wakes, she can hear a voice in the background and she wonders why it is so far away.

She cracks open one eyelid, then another, while her eyes adjust to the light.

A tall, blurry figure comes into focus and she smiles as it gets closer.

"Robbie," she states, reaching out a hand towards him.

He takes her hand and helps her to sit upright on the settee.

She looks round her confused, and after a moment pulls herself to her feet carefully then walks slowly to the window.

The house is old with stone walls, a stiff draft and from the window she can make out a walled garden and courtyard beyond.

She stares at it. It looks familiar and she wracks her memory to recall where she is.

After a moment a name comes to mind. "Is this Brigham?" she questions, furrowing her brow.

She thinks they've been here maybe twice before, one when she was about nine and again when she was sixteen perhaps.

The family have well over a dozen properties but only a few that they visit regularly.

And Brigham is one more of a quaint relic of what was, than something fit to live in today.

The pint sized castle is situated in Dorset and is entirely walled in, with a turret and a guard tower, a drawbridge and a moat. It's quite uninhabited, and if Eleanor recalls correctly the only people who visit the place are a couple of locals who visit to tend to the garden or keep the castle interior tidy.

Robbie nods and gives her a lazy smile.

"Why are we here exactly?" Eleanor questions, confused.

The last thing she recalled was being in France with Jasper, and she has a vague memory of Robbie turning up on the doorstep and her letting him in.

Has he brought her here because he thinks she will be safer from whatever threat Jasper's worried about here, away from everything?

Robbie clears his throat and starts speaking. "We're here because I'm King and you know much too for your own good. Given that you're now aware that I'm not your brother and I'm not your father's son, I can't have you running around telling everyone who I actually am," he says, finishing his comments with a charming smile of pearly white teeth.

Eleanor draws a breath in and stares back at him blindly.

"Nor can we have you disgracing the Royal Family by giving birth to a bastard by an American con artist and putting the reputation of the family into disrepute or threatening my ability to continue to govern," he adds, sitting himself back in his seat, and folding his legs together.

Eleanor sits forwards sharply, and challenges him. "Are you holding me hostage here?" she demands.

"You had your choice Lenny. I could have made the arrangements for you to marry Sebastian or any number of eligible Royals but you wouldn't have it," Robbie chides.

"So now you'll be remaining here. I have three men in place who will detain you if you try to leave. You must see that I can't let you go, knowing what you know," he adds, as if this should be perfectly obvious.

Eleanor sits back in her chair, and puts her head in her hands.

"Why are you doing this Robbie?" she asks desperately, as her voice breaks.

Robbie stares back at her, unfazed. "Like I said you made your own choices Len. Even as we speak the news that the Princess has been tragically killed in the south of France in a car accident is making its way to the Royal household. No doubt the media will fawn over the loss of the young and beautiful Princess. You may find you're far more popular dead than alive," he adds harshly, raising an eyebrow.

Eleanor looks back at him, stunned. He wants to erase her forever and keep her locked up until she grows old and vanishes.

"You can't just shut me up here forever," she snaps, half demanding and half pleading with him.

Robbie raises his eyebrows and repeats himself again. "Like I said Len, if you had just agreed to marry someone suitable this situation would have never arisen. But you wouldn't. Because you're stubborn and headstrong. And like usual you would go slutting around and let Jasper bloody Frost knock you up," he adds, lecturing her.

Coming from Robbie, even if he is now something very different and darker to the brother she knows and loves, the words still hurt.

Eleanor watches him carefully while he goes to stand at the window, looking out over the garden with his back to her.

Eleanor's not stupid. She has a chance and she'll take it.

She's on her feet in a flash and at the door a few seconds later. She pulls at the heavy wood desperately, but unsuccessfully.

Robbie doesn't even turn around to address her. "It's locked. And I have the key," he adds.

Finally he decides to turn around and gives her a charming smile. "And even if you did make it out you would find my men, and then a six metre wall with a moat surrounding it."

Eleanor's leaning against the door, eyes wide and heart beating against her chest. For the first time its just occurred to her that maybe Robbie _doesn't_ want to keep her here as a prisoner.

Maybe he has something far more sinister in mind. Maybe her life will be tragically cut short not in a car crash but in this very castle.

Robbie steps away from the window and slowly advances towards her.

There is something so slow and methodical about the way he approaches her that Eleanor thinks suddenly of a cat approaching a mouse it is planning to capture and torment.

Robbie stands in front of her, so close she can feel his coat scratching into her bare arms. He looks down on her and when she looks back, its not love or warmth she feels, but stone cold fear.

Robbie reaches forward and brushes her hair. Eleanor freezes.

"You know Len, maybe its for the best that you didn't marry some foreign Royal. And maybe its for the best that you know who I actually am and that I'm not your brother. Liam used to say that out of everyone I loved you best. And he was right. Just not like a brother," he adds, sliding a hand around her waist.

Eleanor panics at his touch and tries to shove him back, but his feet are planted firmly on the floor and he's too heavy to be moved.

Suddenly he has her arms imprisoned in his grasp and his lips are on hers, pressing against her and pushing her back into the door, strong and demanding.

Eleanor can't breathe and she can see with terrible clarity that that the man she thought of as her brother - someone she loved and respected her whole life - is not who she thought he is.

He is evil and controlling.

He is a monster.


	14. Chapter 14

_Thanks for your reviews everyone._

 _A warning that the next chapter is pretty dark and disturbing._

* * *

Robbie's lips on hers leave her queasy.

He puts his hands on her hips, then on her waist and on her breast. And every touch is a betrayal, and she wants to scream at him to stop it but he's sucking the life out of her with his mouth.

It's only when his mouth finally comes off hers that she can say something, as if her struggle in his arms and her attempts to push him off weren't evidence enough of how she feels.

The second he releases her, her hand strikes him across the face, and she's screaming at him hysterically.

"You're my _brother_ , Robbie," she screams, outraged. "Whether we're blood or not, we were still brought up as brother and sister. What you just did is so fucked up. Are you insane?" she demands, finally succeeded in extracating herself from his grasp and stalking away from him.

For two seconds she thinks she's free of him, and that the short, sharp slap she's just delivered will make him come to his senses.

And she's confident of that until she turns around to look at him, placing her hands on her hips and staring back at him angrily.

Robert has one hand over his cheek, still recovering from the sting her hand has left on his cheek.

But its his eyes that make her heart start to beat double time when he finally looks back up at her.

She's only seen that look a couple of times in her life, and the last time was when she was ten years old and her brother threw a temper tantrum and smashed Liam's drum kit because he'd asked for one himself but didn't get it for Christmas.

The same anger and the same desire for vengeance are there in his eyes today.

Eleanor stills and grips the chair behind her for support, as he starts to advance towards her, his eyes never lifting from hers.

It's no good trying to run because there's no where to run to, and there's no where to hide. And fighting him is hopeless because he's twice as heavy as her. Robbie's always been stronger than Liam, but there's no competition at all when it comes to her and Robbie.

His hand is on wrist a minute later and his grip so tight it hurts. He drags her away from the chair and shoves her towards the floor.

She falls backwards onto the floor and one of her bracelets clatters to the ground after her and skids across the floor.

"Please Robbie, please don't do this," the words fall from her mouth before she's even aware she's speaking.

Her words have no effect on him at all, other than to make him smirk. "You know Lenny when I was in the Airforce we got drunk one night and someone decided to start a poll on who wanted to fuck you. Turns out nearly everyone else was keen. A couple of them did end up shagging you at some of our parties if you recall. Anyway now that I know that I'm not your brother seems like I need to get in on the action too."

Looking up at him, he looks ridiculously tall and menacing as his hands shift to his belt and he loosens it.

His expression is so intense and _creepy_ Eleanor wonders how she could have ever loved this man, how she could have ever trusted him.

She scrabbles backward away from him and tries to pull herself up.

But he is quicker and lunges at her, crushing her with his weight.

His hands are on her skirt, hiking it up and his mouth is against her ear. "You need to forget Jasper Frost. You'll never see him again," and his words sound like a threat and a warning.

Eleanor turns her head away from him sharply. It's hard to bear the thought that she might never see Jasper again.

Robbie's still breathing heavily against her and his hands have slipped up her body, forcing her top up high, exposing her body to him.

"You're beautiful Len. It's just you and me now. So let me see how good you feel," he says as his leg pushes hers apart.

One of his hand forces down her knickers while the other pins her down. She whimpers as he thrusts into her, and shuts her eyes tight, trying to shut him and his hateful voice and actions out.

Even if she does somehow live through this, she can't see how she'll ever forgive or forget this.

* * *

It's been three hours since Eleanor's gone missing, and Jasper's getting increasingly desperate.

He searched the tiny apartment. There were no signs of forced entry so at first he just assumed she's gone for a walk out, which seemed like something she would do, so he took the car and started to trawl the streets of the seaside town.

But there's no sign or trace or whisper of Eleanor and after more than two hours of fruitless searching Jasper Frost is beside himself.

He's been on his new phone googling Princess Eleanor to check she hasn't been sighted when he refreshes the search and types her name in again.

But this time, half a dozen recent news stories pop up.

He stares at them, as his face drains of any colour that was there before.

According to the Palace, his Princess was killed in a car accident in Southern France only a few hours ago.

And even if he can cling to the belief that maybe its not true, maybe there's been a mistake or some deception somehow, it still feels like his world has come crashing down.


	15. Chapter 15

_Thanks for your reviews and hang in there everyone!_

* * *

A shaft of light falls on her face from one of the narrow slitted windows, and Eleanor stirs, opening her eyes.

At first she's confused about where she is and why she's here.

This place is not the Palace or anywhere she's familiar with.

There's a dull pouding in her head which she knows from experience means that she took something yesterday she shouldn't have, and an ache in her heart that signals something is wrong. And she can't shift the feeling even as she pulls the covers down over her eyes to try and shut out the light so she doesn't have to face the real world.

But hiding under the sheets doesn't take away the feeling, and when she shuts her eyes flashes of memory come into her head.

Robbie telling her she'd never see Jasper Frost again.

The feeling of being trapped in his arms.

Her body pinned underneath Robbie's while he took her against the floor. Him saying he loved her while he hurt her by pressing her bones into the cold stone floor with every movement killing her a little more inside.

All these things take on the shape of a nightmare and she thinks _no_ , this can't be real. That _can't_ have happened yesterday.

And she knows this feeling she has, this heaviness in her head, that there must have been some drugs involved, otherwise her thoughts would be clearer, and they feel all jumbled up.

So she must be wrong about Robbie. Because the things she remembered make no sense at all. Robbie would never hurt her, only protect her.

He didn't desire her. He was her _brother_.

She settles down deeper into the bed, and pushes the thoughts of Robbie away from her. It is unreasonably early to wake up and she's not going to be shifted from her bed just yet.

* * *

An hour later she finally emerges from the bed.

This room is cold, and stark.

She moves to the window and looks down below. There is a long drop to the grassy hill below with a moat surrounding the castle.

She wanders over and pulls open a solid wooden door. Next door is a small room with a table and two chairs and very little else.

Back in her room something catches her eye under the door. A letter.

She bends to pick it up. Her name is inscribed on it and she recognises her older brother's handwriting.

She removes the letter from the envelope and sits down on the bed to read it.

 _Dear Lenny_

 _I think you know as well as I do that we're meant to be together._

 _Yesterday proved that. You're perfect Lenny. And beautiful._

 _And what I know for sure is that now that I've had you, I can't ever give you up. And it would be wrong for you to have Jasper Frost's child when you belong to me, body and soul._

 _I have to go back to London for official engagements, but I'll be back in a couple of days._

 _Until then I'll be missing you and thinking about what I'll do to you when I'm back._

 _Robbie_

Eleanor stares at the letter and her stomach lurches violently. Everything feels still and cold.

The letter slips from her fingers and she's left looking at her lap.

Her eye catches a purple mark by her knee.

Gingerly she touches it and it stings. She lifts her skirt a little and there is another mark opposite it on her other leg. And another higher up the same leg.

 _Robbie_ did these things to her.

She shuts her eyes again because she doesn't want to see anymore.

And in the back of her mind suddenly she hears her own voice pleading with Robbie not to do this. And the memory of fear is so strong she can taste the bile at the back of her mouth and feel his hands digging into her wrists, caging her underneath him so she can't escape.

It truly is a dreadful world she lives in where someone she thought she loved could hurt her so badly.

The urge to escape from this nightmare, to drink or drug herself into oblivion is so strong its overwhelming.

But there is no remedy to be had here.

On the corner of the bed is a small radio and she leans over, switches it on and turns up the volume.

She curls up and listens.

Maybe if she focuses hard enough the music will drown out the voices in her head.

She wants to not think. To not feel. And to forget any of this ever happened.

That is the only way to survive.

* * *

Jasper's been on the phone to the French Police, then Liam and James Hill but he's not satisfied with the answers he's getting.

If there's been a crash, there must be a crash scene, but no one seems to know where that is.

Finally he finds a media report which names a town - not his town - but a little village about an hour away and he's out the door in a second and driving like a wanted man to the crash scene.

When he gets there he drives around the entire town looking for evidence of an accident.

He goes to a local café and restaurant and suffers their rolled eyes at the sound of his American twang asking too many questions.

Giving up there he settles on visiting the local Police station to demand some answers.

He is met with more exasperation and shrugged shoulders while they tell him they 'know nothing' of the crash.

And by now he's convinced that something's amiss. Because had a prominent member of the British Royal Family just died on their patch, surely the local Police would know where the crash occurred and have enough detail to fend off inquisitive journalists.

And with that thought the heavy feeling something like panic that settled on him just a few hours ago, lifts a little and he starts to feel hope.

Hope that maybe Eleanor hasn't been killed at all. That somehow, someone's up to something underhand and that there's a chance, just maybe, that his Princess is still out there alive.

He decides he's going to have to place another call to James Hill and ask some hard questions about what the fuck is going on here.

He's not giving up on Eleanor today.

He never could.


	16. Chapter 16

_Thanks for your reviews. Appreciate not everyone likes where the story has gone but lots of you want to know where its going to go next so the next chapter is below_

* * *

Twelve hours after Princess Eleanor's death, Royal Protection Service Bodyguard Jasper Frost slips back into the Palace and makes for James Hill's office.

After one hour of what can only be described as interrogation of the Head of Security James Hill by the said Mr Frost, he is summarised ejected from his office and warned on pain of dismissal that he cannot bloody answer any more of his questions this evening.

Dissatisfied and still with more questions than answers, Jasper Frost heads to bed, to endure a few hours broken sleep.

The next day, against Mr Hill's express instructions, he stations himself back on duty again, as if he had never disappeared five days ago at the same time the Princess did, and as if that same Princess had never been pronounced dead less than twenty four hours ago.

If Eleanor ever doubted the love of her family in life, there could be no doubting the sincerity of her mother and twin's love after death.

Liam seems to be taking it worst of all. He stalks the corridors a pale ghost of his former self, with dark shadows under his eyes and a haunted look about him.

And while outwardly composed, Queen Helena is uncharacteristically silent during breakfast and lunch.

Rachel is the one who makes the necessary preparations for the Princesses funeral.

Jasper is watching King Robert most closely. Like a hawk to be exact.

And to Jasper, Robert's grief for the sister he loved best of all seems to be all appearance with no substance behind it.

Robert still manages to laugh at the Prime Minister's joke at morning tea, and to find the Chinese Amabassadors efforts at prounouncing 'flied lice' amusing.

Yet according to Mr Hill, Robert was the one who identified his sister's remains. Remains he himself found no trace of, and indeed found no evidence of a crash at all.

Nothing about Princess Eleanor's "death" adds up.

And Jasper thinks that King Robert holds the key to what's going on.

But to find out what happened to Eleanor, and what Robert is up to, he's going to have to be discreet, and use all his wiles.

* * *

The castle she is locked up is immensely creepy and she thinks she might be going slowly but surely crazy.

The silence is oppressive.

Every footstep on the flag stones sets her heart racing and her palms sweaty and she wonders, with dread, whether Robbie is coming back again, like he threatened to.

She tries to shut out the silence and her fears, with the radio, and thoughts of things that are safe and true.

Her mother. Liam. Sara Alice. Mr Hill. _Jasper Frost_.

The last name evokes such a strong sense of longing in her that its almost painful to even let his face come into her mind, to imagine the sound of his voice again, knowing that she may never see him again.

She's starting to think that the guards here are trying to harm her.

It started at lunch yesterday when she bit down on something solid in her lunch and fished out a small white pill from the tuna mayo in her sandwhich.

After staring at it for several seconds she decided to slip it behind the corner post of her bed.

Then that evening the glass of water the guard left with her meal tasted oddly bitter and she put it down after two mouthfuls.

She had carried it over to the window afterwards and examined it from the bottom and there was some white residue at the bottom of the glass.

It made her shiver and she put it down abruptly.

And the name she's been trying not to think about these past two days washes over her all without warning.

 _Robbie._

Robbie is trying to poison her.

And she thinks back to the day she arrived here when she felt so weak, and it suddenly makes sense.

This is not the first time he's tried to drug her.

That day he must have tried to drug her out of her mind so she wouldn't know what he was doing to her, or fight against him.

Eleanor stares down at the landscape so far below and her sense of hopelessness grows.

She is literally the Princess in the Tower, with her deranged ex brother keeping her his prisoner.

She's searched every which way to find some way to escape from here but there is no way out.

For a moment she imagines what it would feel like to fall all the way down from her high tower, the sense of freedom and flying, then pain once she hits the ground.

But she'll never find out what it feels like because the iron braided windows are locked tight.

The tears well up inside her and then start spilling down her cheeks.

* * *

It's 2am when he announces to the security guard stationed outside the crypt underneath the castle that he'll take over.

Of course he'll have to erase the footage afterwards.

And he takes a minute to congratulate himself for having the presence of mind to never breathe a word of his suspicions to King Robert, otherwise security arrangements would have undoubtedly have been far tighter than they are now.

And after that thought has passed, he has to steel himself for what's coming next, because the thought of what he might or might not see, is almost causing him to lose his shit.

Jasper steps closer to the coffin which holds the remains of Princess Eleanor Isabelle Marie Katharine Henstridge, Princess Royal.

The same Princess whose premature death at the age of 23 will be remembered at a national service at Westminster Cathedral tomorrow.

He opens his coat to extract two small tools, then identifies the lock.

Three minutes later he's broken it.

Only one thought is running through his head in the few seconds he takes to compose himself before his shaking hands grasp the top of the lid.

He shuts his eyes, _please don't let it be her_ , he begs silently, then flips the lid back.

He opens his eyes - finally - and stares at what's in front of him.

There is something inside the coffin.

But there is no Princess.


	17. Chapter 17

_More with the story and thanks for your reviews_

* * *

For appearances sake, he attends Princess Eleanor's funeral, even though he knows well enough that Eleanor's isn't in the coffin.

He spent last night carrying out research - reviewing security footage, and trawling through any correspondence to and from King Robert he can get his hands on.

And if he looks desperate and haggard this morning, there are more than a few Palace staff and members of the Royal Family who will know that he has more than enough excuse to look like that today of all days.

Without anything else to go on, he's thinking he's going to do some reconnaissance because if Eleanor is still alive, and as long as he draws breath he has hope than she is, she has to be _somewhere_.

Either shut away in some remote European location, or shut up in one of the Royal residences.

Jasper thinks King Robert is too self-centred and concerned with his own image to let his pregnant, single supposedly younger sister taint the Monarchy's reputation.

He turns his head to look towards the King who is now giving a memorial address in memory of his sister and his eyes narrow as he takes in his smug, hypocritical face.

He better not have touched a hair on Eleanor's head or hurt the baby or else he's going to kill Robert.

And he doesn't give a fuck if it is treason even to think that.

* * *

With every passing hour, Eleanor is starting to feel further and further adrift from the rest of the world.

It's hard to keep track of time, except through the rising and setting of the sun that tells her its been four days since she arrived here.

She has access to food, and to water to wash herself and to a bed, but very little else.

There's no one to talk to here.

She thinks its a further sign that she might be going slightly crazy that in the absence of anyone else she's started talking to her baby.

At first she wasn't sure if she was still pregnant, so it was sort of an attempt to grasp at straws by talking to it, and touching her stomach to see if there was still something, _anything_ , there, that would respond back.

And then on the third morning she woke up and vomited up her breakfast an hour later.

And later she was happy that she did that, because it meant that even if Robbie was trying to poison her, and kill her spirit and take her away from everything she knew, he hadn't managed to destroy the one thing she had left from Jasper Frost.

* * *

It's later that day and Eleanor is curled up on her bed staring at the ceiling.

A shaft of light from the window creeps ever so slowly across the stone wall.

She watches it, and counts the number of stones up the wall because she feels like crying and this is something else to do other than give in to that urge.

At four days is today the day of her funeral?

Because her father's funeral was held on the fourth day after his death.

And so was Robbie's, when he was dead. _And then he came back._

Everyone was so grateful when he returned, most of all her.

But now it seems clear to her that whenever something is given, in return something else is taken away.

Robert is returned back to life.

He was a prisoner and is now set free, while she who was free is now a prisoner.

And she wonders if somewhere in his deranged little brain that is what this is all about. Because the Archbishop of Canterbury imposed a whole lot of divine right to rule crap in his head from the age of five and maybe Robbie locking her up is some kind of fucked up Church of England equivalent of primitive tribe appeasing a fire god with some sacrificial flesh.

 _Yes, My Lord Archbishop, I've shut up the family sinner in a tower_ , she imagines her brother telling the ancient priest smugly. _That should guarantee me a divinely ordained untroubled rule_.

But she doubts he's going to tell the Archbishop the other things that go on in the tower.

Far below there's a faint sound of an engine, and Eleanor's on her feet in few seconds, standing on tip toes to peer down below the castle, and already shivering even thought its far from cold.

A black range rover crosses below her range of vision, but the windows are too narrow for her to be able to get a view of who's stepped out of the car.

She sits on the little chair by the window, straining to hear any further sounds.

By the time she can hear the footsteps in the hall, her face has drained of colour and her hands are balled tight into her palms.

The door opens and Robbie stands inside the door way, then shuts the door after him.

"Lenny," he greets her, smiling warmly.

"You had a beautiful funeral. It's a pity you couldn't be there to appreciate it," he adds.

Eleanor is tight lipped but manages to still the tremble in her hands. "For a psychopath like you it must have been hilarious seeing Mum and Liam grieving and knowing that you've tricked everyone into thinking I was dead when I was still alive."

Robbie actually let's out a little laugh and looks pleased with himself. "I'll grant you that Len, it was quite funny," he agrees.

But Eleanor doesn't smile back at him because this man is a stranger. And a deadly one at that.

"You're not amused I see," Robbie raises an eyebrow as if he's telling her off, then shrugs his shoulders. "Well, I'm not here to talk anyway," he adds.

With every step he takes towards her, the walls of the room seem to close in a little, and her heart beats faster and faster and she has to fight to control herself.

Before he can reach her she steps to her feet and turns her back on him. "Can I get you some water?" she questions, and she tries to ignore the way her voice sounds strangled and shaky.

"Yes," Robert agrees and she thrusts a glass into his hand and nurses her own drink with careful sips, putting a distance between them both.

Robert finishes his drink and steps towards her.

His hands are on a lock of her hair, caressing it.

He leans in and draws her in closer.

"I think the thing that draws me to you the most is how much fire you have inside. That and the fact that you're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen. If it wasn't for the fact that everyone thinks you're my sister I would make you my Queen," Robert tells her, and he sounds as if he's telling the truth.

But she's not sure because Robbie could always sell both the truth and fiction with the same level of conviction. Her mother had trained him to.

Eleanor's staring at her glass fixedly, and she won't look up at him.

She knows all this will all come to an end, sooner or later.

 _If she can only hold on._

It takes another two minutes of Robbie talking creepily like a lover in her ear before the sedative he had his guards try to use on her finally takes effect on him.

And then she drops to the floor and starts searching for a key and some way to get out of this bloody nightmare.

But there is none.

She starts to panic. Because if she can't get out of here before her criminally deranged ex brother wakes up, there's going to be hell to pay.


	18. Chapter 18

_Thanks for your reviews and here is the next chapter_

* * *

His Majesty King Robert is a slippery bastard.

Always has been, as far as he's concerned. From the first time he told him he had "high standards for my only sister."

So it doesn't surprise him that after he has attended Princess Eleanor's funeral and the subdued afternoon tea service that follows it, he should try and slip away from the Palace unnoticed.

He doesn't even take any security with him, which is an immediate red flag to Jasper that he's up to something.

But Jasper's got his number, or to be more accurate a GPS radar showing the location of his mobile phone, and he's not far behind wherever Robert's heading.

* * *

It takes around two and half hours to reach his destination, deep in the Dorset countryside.

He's never been here before, but it seems likely its one of the many properties owned by the Royal family.

This one is a small medieval castle, surrounded by a moat, set in the middle of nowhere.

Sure enough, a black rover is parked just outside the castle, so he's sure he's got the right location.

Jasper parks up behind a group of trees, so the car can't be seen from above, then gets out and draws his gun.

Entering the castle via the drawbridge he makes his way towards the castle interior.

Near the entrance he spies a man keeping guard, then sneaks up behind him and elbows him, knocking him out clean.

He repeats the same move on the man stationed at the top of the stairs up towards the tower.

There are two doors leading off the gloomy stone hall at the top of the tower and he pushes through the first door.

There is nothing inside, and he turns on his heel immediately.

The second door won't budge when he tries to open it, and must be locked.

He's not going to fuck around trying to unpick it and decides to take a more direct approach.

It takes a dozen shots before his gun has made a hole in the door, allowing him to loosen the key and push open the door.

Standing inside the room with her hands on her hips, eyes wide, is Princess Eleanor.

"I thought it must be you. Only a bloody American would shoot down the door," she announces.

Jasper stands stock still and stares at her longingly.

Then he takes a few quick steps over to her and he's about to take her in his arms but she stops him in his tracks.

She gives him a quick shove away from him. "Don't," she says and her face crumples.

Jasper doesn't understand what he's done wrong but just knowing that Eleanor is alive and breathing is relief enough for him right now.

Jasper turns his attention to the body on the floor of the man he followed here. He doesn't think he's dead, more like knocked out somehow.

"He locked you up here?" Jasper asks.

Eleanor does a quick nod.

"Is the baby-" Jasper starts.

"Is fine," Eleanor interrupts.

"Are you hurt?," Jasper asks next.

Eleanor's eyes slide away from his, and she shakes her head.

"We have to get out of here before he wakes up," she says next, and there is a desperation in her voice he doesn't miss which sets him off.

Eleanor steps over her brother without looking down.

"Follow me," Jasper tells her and he leads the way back out of the castle again.

* * *

He's so happy just to find Eleanor alive but he hadn't formed a plan in advance of what he should do with her, so now his mind is busy spinning as he plots it all out in his head while his hands are on the wheel.

It's too soon and too dangerous to take her back to the Palace.

Everyone thinks she's dead and her brother _wanted_ her dead, and as King he's a powerful man to cross.

He's contemplating his options when he finally registers that in the seat next to him Eleanor has been deathly quiet for the past thirty minutes.

Darkness is approaching and Eleanor has her head turned away from him and is leaning her forehead against the window pane and the way she is slumped against it speaks of either exhaustion or defeat or both.

Jasper adjusts his mirror surreptitiously, and he can see in it now that she is crying.

His throat tightens at the sight which is painful to him.

He keeps driving but after a moment his hand slips over and takes hers.

Her hand twitches under his, and then stills and she lets him hold her hand even though neither are looking at each other.

Eventually she speaks. "Everything Liam said about him was true," Eleanor tells him, but it comes out in uneven gasps.

He knows she's talking about her older brother without her saying his name.

"Every crazy and vile accusation Liam made about him was all true," she adds, and her voice is part accusation and part heartache.

Jasper's watching her and he's wondering what Robert said or did in the Tower to have changed her opinion of him so completely. Eleanor had always been blind to whatever faults he had before and now she seems to be able to see them all in glaring daylight and is struggling with the knowledge.

"You learn a lot about people in Vegas in my line of work. I knew that King Robert was not what he presented himself to be from the moment I met him," Jasper tells her.

"He tried to kill me," Eleanor tells him, and she sounds as if she's filled with disbelief that that ever happened.

Jasper looks over at her. "That was why I took you away from the Palace in the first place. He was always the threat."

And Eleanor makes a noise like a muffled sob, because it confirms what she'd feared but hadn't wanted to believe.

"I can't go back to the Palace. Ever. Not while he's there," Eleanor tells him.

She sounds desperate and as if its just occurred to her that this isn't over yet. That she's still in danger.

"I won't let him near you again," Jasper vows.

Eleanor doesn't speak but her hands tightens within his and he keeps ahold of it to remind himself that he got her back and she's here with him.

Somehow, some way he's going to take down King Robert and keep Eleanor safe from him forever.


	19. Chapter 19

Thanks for your reviews and to everyone following the story, sorry its been a while, I've been busy.

* * *

Eleanor tries to surround herself with noise, but she is all silence.

Last night it seemed like she had let him in, but today she's shut him well and truly out by staying in her room nearly all morning.

As if she's metaphorically shut herself the castle she's just escaped from and has pulled the drawbridge up after her.

They're deep in the Somerset countryside, in a little country cottage, the last place anyone would look for a Princess, especially one who's supposed to be recently and dramatically deceased.

He doesn't know what to do with her, exactly, so he thinks he'll give her some time and space to work through the issues her favourite brother kidnapping and attempting to murder her have created.

Being a Princess, Eleanor is naturally spectacularly impractical and useless around the house.

And its not for want of trying because he watched with some amusement that morning when she tried to figure out how to work the toaster, only to succeed in burning the bread.

But the fact remains that she could burn the house down and he would still be hopelessly in love with her.

And he's known this for long enough now to have made his peace with the fact that his future is so irreversibly bound up this girl that he'll never be able to stop himself from following after her wherever she goes.

He can't help himself.

* * *

In the little room with a view of the sea, Eleanor shivers with cold.

The cottage has no central heating, and the room is north facing where there is no warmth from the sun.

She has never been in a bedroom so _small_.

The cold bites into her bones and she rolls back into the bed and pulls a blanket tight around her.

The ceiling is painted white with a Victorian rose shaped mold in the centre of the room with the light mounted in the middle of it.

Staring at it there's a strange sense of deja-vu.

Because Jasper's room at the Palace was a cold, sad little cubby hole far away in the East Wing and she had visited him there a couple of times.

While his room had been painted grey, and this was a pale green colour, his room has the exact same nasty Victorian flower monstrosity implanted in the ceiling as this place.

She shuts her eyes and she remembers lying on his bed, their heads pressed together as she told him her secrets. Her hand is tangled in his.

It is all so clear in her mind that she can smell the scent of his aftershave and feel his hands on her skin, pressing into her waist.

Her throat catches with the same overwhelming feeling of breathlessness she would feel lying on the bed in his room looking at the ceiling with Jasper on top of her, and inside of her.

Only now the breathlessness in her throat seems to burn, and instead of ecstacy she feels the sting of tears, and swallows hard to try to wash it away.

She tries to remember the way he would hold her in his arms afterwards, but she can't recapture the feeling today.

She knows now that whatever she had had with Jasper in that brief moment of time was an illusion.

There had to be a catch.

She was never meant to fall in love with someone like Jasper Frost and he wasn't allowed to love her back.

She is a Princess but her life was never meant to a fairytale. She wasn't ever supposed to be happy.

The best she can hope for is to find some way to become Eleanor Henstridge again.

Whoever she is now.

* * *

Jasper makes deep fried bagels for lunch, and Eleanor stares at the result suspiciously.

"Why would you do that to a sandwich? Is there a dead animal hiding inside it?" she asks, wrinkling her nose and looking unimpressed.

Jasper tilts his head and considers it. "Maybe," he tells her.

She narrows her gaze at him and opens up the bagel and carefully inspects it before taking a bite.

She takes a few more bites then sets the plate down on the bench and heads for the small kitchenette to get herself a glass of water.

She's about to sit herself back down when she catches Jasper staring at her.

He gets up slowly and walks over to her, and he's all up in her face, too close to her and the feeling is claustrophic and she starts to feel something like panic.

"Where did you get those bruises?," he asks. And his brow is furrowed and his lips are set together tight and she can recognise he's angry just from the tone of his voice.

He doesn't miss the way she tenses up at his question, or how her hand slides to cover the mark on her wrist.

He reaches forward and tries to grasp her hand, to see for himself, but she steps away from him as if he's burnt her.

There's another on the inside of her leg, which he's just seeing now in the bright light of day.

She's turned away from him and is facing the window, and isn't talking.

"Did Robbie do that? Did he hit you?" Jasper demands and his outrage is barely suppressed.

The sound of his name makes her draw a ragged breath in because its too painful to hear.

Jasper can read her too easily and the fact that she won't look at him makes him think that something is very, very wrong.

He thinks of her words last night.

 _I can't go back to the Palace. Ever. Not while he's there._

The mark on her leg is suspiciously high up her thigh and he has a sudden vision of Robert's hand sliding up her leg and holding her so tight it bruises and he feels suddenly sick.

Maybe Robbie's fist wasn't the only way he hurt her and the mere thought of that fills him with rage.

"How did you end up with those marks? What the fuck did he do to you?," Jasper explodes.

"Don't. Just don't," Eleanor interrupts him, and her voice is sharp and desperate, because she wants to shut him up, to stop him from saying whatever might say next. And he can't see it but the tears are already rising up.

She can almost feel his anger running through her, even with her back turned, and she can't take one more minute in this room.

A few seconds later she's out of the room, chest heaving and her face a blur of messy tears which she won't shed in front of Jasper Frost.

She's too fast for him to stop her.

Jasper lets out a string of obscenities and follows this by slamming his fist into the wall.

He doesn't even notice the pain or the blood on his first. And if he did he would welcome the distraction.

 _If_ Robert has hurt her, _if_ he has touched the girl who was raised as his sister with anything other than brotherly affection then what he's just done to the wall will be good practice for when he slams his fist into Robert and beats him to death.

Some way, some how he's going to have to make it up to Eleanor for not being there to stop Robert from taking her.

And the worst thing of this is that if this is true then whatever he does to Robert, none of it is going to fix Eleanor.

 _Eleanor_ \- who has his heart so entirely that the thought of anyone hurting her makes him feel a pain so sharp in his chest that it feels as if his heart is tearing apart from the inside.


	20. Chapter 20

Thank you for all the reviews everyone. Lots of feelings from Eleanor and Jasper this chapter too

* * *

Eleanor feels Jasper's presence before he says anything.

She sitting in a chair facing the window in the cramped little room bedroom, smoking.

He can see her tense but she doesn't look round at him.

Jasper clears his throat nervously.

"I'm sorry that I yelled before. I'm not mad at you."

Even though she can't see him, he sounds as miserable as she feels.

There might have been a time when that would give her some comfort, but not now.

In fact his pain pinches at her and she feels her stomach lurch the same way it did when he started asking questions about bruises and Robbie and whatever else he was asking before her mind shut down in protest.

She's not ready to deal with his questions yet.

She has a million questions of her own that she can't figure out. Like, _why_ Robbie did any of this? Is he mentally unstable or just pure evil?

Or how could he hide his true personality from her for so long? So long that it makes her feel like a fool to have only discovered it now.

Any and all of these questions have passed through her mind, but just thinking about it makes her feel sick. Physically sick to the extent that she can feel the bile in the back of her throat and a sense of panic rise inside her.

If, at some point in the future, she can find a way to work through all of the many questions in her head, she doesn't know if she'll ever get rid of the feeling he's left her with - of betrayal and shame and the sense of loss that another person she thought actually believed in her and loved her for who she is has been lying to her. _Again._

"I'm mad at myself," Jasper tells her.

His admission catches her off guard, interrupting her thoughts.

And finally she turns looks at him, a side glance which exposes more of what she's feeling right now than she is comfortable with.

"There's nothing you've done you should be mad about. Granted you were a repeat offender in the past, but you're in no way responsible for anything that's happened lately," Eleanor tells him.

He's spent the past ten minutes killing himself over what may or may not have happened, and why he wasn't faster to figure out who had taken Eleanor and where he'd taken her and perhaps prevented something.

And there's some relief in her words, but he can't quit the sense of guilt altogether.

Eleanor's stopped looking at him and is gazing out the window again.

She takes a long drag of the cigarette. Slow, precise, but he doesn't miss the way her hand trembles on the cigarette as it nears her lips.

And he's reminder of a time long ago, before he knew that he loved her, before he centred his world around her, when he'd seen her do the same thing.

That time he'd lit her cigarette for her, after she'd thrown the lighter on the floor.

Back then it was just fun and games, but looking back he thinks that was the moment when he'd realised that he might actually care about her as a person.

And now he was in too deep, with no way to turn back.

"Whatever Robert did or didn't do in that castle you're not responsible for that either Len," Jasper says finally.

He can't see her face but after a moment Eleanor sniffs slightly, and swipes a hand over her face.

There is something painfully childlike about the elegant movement.

Even though he wants it not to be true, there is no other way to take that but as confirmation that what he thinks happened did happen.

He's not stupid.

He knows Eleanor.

He knows that it's too much to expect her to talk right now and that if he pushes her she'll freeze him out.

"Nobody could blame you for anything Robert did. Somehow we'll work out a plan for you to be safe and to see your Mom and Liam again. They both love you and they want the best for you."

He takes a step forward, carefully.

"And what I said in the Palace before you left I meant. I love you too. You'll always be my girl, whatever happens," he tells her.

And it's the sincerity in his voice that really gets her.

She looks up at him, finally, her eyes filled with tears and he can feel his heart breaking over her, one more time.

"Even this?," she asks, her voice choked up with tears.

Jasper nods. "Even this," he replies back, and he's swallowing the lump that's already formed in his throat.

He knows that he's going to have to be more careful and gentle than ever before, and he's afraid he's going a step too far for her right now, but he can't help himself.

He steps forward and goes over to her.

A minute later he's down on his knees and he pulls a handkerchief out of his pocket.

She's running a hand over her tear stained face but he leans forward and dabs the handkerchief over her cheeks, blotting out the remaining tears.

Once he's finished it she looks up at him through wet lashes, and says what she's been too scared to admit to herself, so quietly he has to strain to hear her.

"I think I might still be in love with you otherwise this would be easier."

She bites down on her lip, once the words have come out, and Jasper's staring back at her, stunned.

Eventually he finds the words to reply.

"Whenever you need me I'll always be here. I'll never stop loving you Eleanor."

She swallows like it's almost painful to hear and then nods.

Ever so gently he leans forward and cups her face like she is the most precious thing in the world. To him, she is.

His love for Eleanor burns fierce in his heart, but the thirst for revenge for the man who's hurt her is just as strong.

He is absolutely, definitely going to find a way to kill Robert.

Soon.


	21. Chapter 21

_Thanks for your reviews and your requests for a new chapter, it's up below_

* * *

He's sitting in a dingy Bristol pub at 10pm opposite the one and only man he thinks he can afford to trust these days.

James Hill has already taken in Jasper Frost's demeanor and has gathered he has something important to tell him. His face is fairly radiating tension and his hand has already strayed twice to his coat pocket in a matter of two minutes where he presumes his gun is located.

There's no pleasantries exchanged between them because both prefer to get down to business.

"You've got some explaining to do son," Mr Hill opens with, leaning back against his chair and waiting for an answer from the man who so recently absconded with King's only sister, reappeared at the Palace a few days later minus the Princess then mysteriously disappeared again shortly after with no explanation about what was going on.

At the time he let it go, because he knew the Princess was his world and with her death, his life collapsed entirely, but now they're sitting here face to face, he thinks some further detail on what exactly has been going on would be in order.

Jasper leans forward and beckons Mr Hill closer.

"Len's alive," he announces.

Mr Hill's eyebrows shoot up. "Are you sure about this?, it's not just a rumour?" he questions, because much like Elvis, many celebrities who've died are reported as being alive in the trashiest tabloids.

Jasper shakes his head, his lips set. "She's with me. Living and breathing as we speak about twenty miles from here. Just," he adds grimly.

He hasn't told her he's here with James or why. She's still not talking to him about any of this, most especially not her former older brother.

Jasper continues, even though talking about this doesn't come easy to him.

" _He_ took her. _He_ staged her death," he tells Mr Hill. He's not going to call him by his name because the mere sound of it enrages him.

Mr Hill looks back at him, none the wiser. "You're going to have to more specific. I learnt a lot of things at Scotland Yard but mind reading wasn't one of them."

Jasper looks angry, and irritated. "The King," he spits out two words.

James sits back in his chair, then steeps his hands together at this news as he considers it.

"Why did he do this exactly?" Mr Hill questions.

Jasper knots his eyebrows together and his voice comes out strained.

"Eleanor's having my baby and Robert didn't want her to because it would disgrace the family. He was plotting to make her miscarry the baby which was why I took her from the Palace. She also found out that he isn't her brother. Her real brother died when he was a few weeks old and the Duchess came up with the idea of swapping the baby for a healthy one. He knows that we know that he's not the rightful heir and he's afraid that we'd out him and he would lose the Crown. That's part of the reason why he snatched her from France and locked her up in Brigham Castle and faked her death."

Across from him Mr Hill's processing this stream of new developments without giving much away.

"And what was the other reason?" he prompts, after a moment.

Whatever he's just said has made Jasper seethe with barely supressed rage.

Mr Hill sits back and waits, patiently, taking a sip from his drink.

Eventually Jasper comes out with it.

"To him she's not his sister anymore, but he couldn't leave her alone. He shut her up the in the castle and when she wouldn't go along with his perverted fantasties he raped her. She would still be there and he would still be doing that if I hadn't found her."

Mr Hill's staring back at him, shocked.

Jasper doesn't pause but continues without taking a breath.

"Every night when I go to bed I imagine what he did to her in my head and it makes me want to hunt him down, take out my gun and make him beg for his live. And after he'd been on his knees for long enough I'd shoot him, once in the brain and then in the heart, and then the stomach. One time for me, and twice for Eleanor. Seeing his smug fucking face suffer makes me feel happy for a little bit. Until I hear Eleanor. The walls are thin and she cries every night."

Mr Hill doesn't miss the fact that his voice is full of sinister malevolence. Or the way his hand is gripping the pint of beer in his hand so tightly he's afraid it might shatter in his hand. Or how his face crumples when he mentions the Princess.

He would go to her at night but the door is locked every time and when he knocks she won't let him in. Every night he hears her his hatred of Robert grows stronger in his heart.

"I'd like to put a hole in the bastard myself," Mr Hills adds, and Jasper looks up, startled out of his thoughts and own plans for revenge.

And then he remembers why he decided to, against his better judgement, trust James Hill. Because he cares about Eleanor almost as much as he does.

"But I won't," Mr Hill adds next. "Because that's not the way to settle this," he announces, shaking his head.

Mr Hill runs a hand across his face tiredly. What the younger man has just told him makes his heart feel heavy, because he had wanted so badly for things to get better for the Princess, not worse.

And he knows that Robert is one of the very few people she trusts, and his betrayal must be killing her inside.

It's times like this where he really feels his age.

Jasper's already told him something of a response but he steadies himself to ask a question he's afraid to know the answer to.

"How is the Princess?"

Jasper shakes his head grimly, but doesn't reply.

He's trying so hard with her. To be careful and considerate and to support her in everything.

But Eleanor's not the same girl she was only a few days ago.

It scares him to think that maybe she'll never return to the Eleanor he knows and loves so fiercely. That maybe she'll never unlock her door to him again, or let him into her heart.

James Hill reaches over to his side of the table and puts a hand over his in a rare and unexpected show of affection.

"Don't give up on her son. She has trust issues and he's hurt her badly. It's going to take time to get over this."

Jasper looks back at him, and if Mr Hill can see the vaguest hint of tears form in the back of his eyes, he's never going to say so.

Jasper nods and swallows hard, repeating a promise he made to Eleanor what seemed like a long time ago.

"I won't give up on her. I never will."


	22. Chapter 22

_Ok another update on the story, thanks for your reviews. For the person who asked Eleanor is about 7-8 weeks pregnant._

 _I really hope E fires Mark Schwahn and the Royals can continue with a new showrunner, getting a bit worried that we haven't heard any updates and it must be tough for the cast to be in this position after everything that's gone on._

* * *

It's been six days since he met James Hill.

He's been waiting and hoping that he'll see some sort of change in Eleanor. He tries so hard to look for it, but there's nothing which will even allow him to clutch at some sort of false hope.

But when it doesn't come he has to admit defeat. For now.

He's worried about her in more ways than one.

Too many mornings he can hear the sound of her wretching in the bathroom, and when she comes out she looks pale and spent.

He doesn't know how to fix the pain Robert caused her which makes her cry at night, even though she doesn't know that he can hear her, but he knows everything.

But he can do something about _this._

* * *

The middle aged doctor who steps out of his practice just after 7pm doesn't see him lurking in the shadows. And once he slides into the passenger seat of his car beside him through the door he picked the lock of ten minutes earlier, it's already too late.

Jasper presses his gun into the side of the man's chest and its enough to make him startle with fear.

Jasper takes control of the situation, business like as ever. "I'm going to need you to do what I say here Doctor. I need you to write a prescription," he announces.

His pulse is still racing but now he can collect himself a little he thinks he should have guessed what this was about. His practice has been broken into twice in the past two years, despite the fact they don't keep any hard drugs on the premises. But their prescription forms are incentive enough it seems.

Taking in the man sitting next to him, he's pretty certain he's not the end user of whatever it is he wants him to write.

The man beside him has a distinctly stateside accent and he looks tired, but his eyes are clear and his hands are steady. He looks dangerous enough, but also professional, so maybe he's involved in organised crime.

Writing illegal prescriptions isn't something he would ever dream of doing in the normal course of events, but he values his life more than his principles right now.

"I'll need to get my prescription pad," he says, gesturing towards his briefcase.

Jasper's wary and reaches down and pulls it up himself, unlocking it with one hand and checking there's nothing of concern inside, with his other hand still on the gun.

He passes it over to the doctor, who takes it then withdraws a pen from his pocket.

"What's it for," the doctor questions.

The answer is far from what he expects.

"There's a girl - _my girl_ \- he adds, and his previously stony demeanour softens as he says the words, sounding oddly possessive, "who's pregnant and she's been getting morning sickness and vomiting most days. I want you to prescribe her something for it," he tells him.

"I see," replies the doctor even though he's at a loss to know why this warrants the man sliding into his vehicle and threatening him with a gun just to write a prescription.

"You do realise that in Britain its free to go to the doctor and get a prescription?" he questions dryly. The thought that he's being held hostage by a confused American on the false pretence that a doctor's bill will bankrupt him would almost amuse him, in other circumstances.

The American shakes his head quickly. "She can't go to a doctor because of who she is."

"I see," the doctor replies again, processing this information, while he wonders who the hell _she_ is that she can't go to a doctor. An illegal immigrant perhaps?

His hand pauses over the prescription pad while he considers which drug would be suitable. "Is she taking any medication or other substances?" he questions.

A ghost of a wry smile almost crosses the other man's face. Because there was a time when trying to list any and everything Eleanor Henstridge was taking would have been quite impossible. But these days she's not on anything at all.

He shakes his head.

"Any allergies or other medical conditions?" the doctor asks.

Jasper shakes his head again.

"I need an NHS number" the doctor states. "And a name."

"Make it up," Jasper instructs, as if this should have been obvious.

The doctor huffs, and rolls his eyes, then delves into his briefcase looking for some patient notes until he finds a number and a name he can use.

He completes the prescription and hands over the prescription to Jasper without further comment.

"Can I collect it?" the American questions. Because if they want ID he and his gun are going to have to escort the good doctor to a nearby pharmacy to get the doctor to collect the prescription in person, a step he would prefer to avoid if possible.

The doctor nods. "Yes."

But his unwanted visitor's not leaving yet, more's the pity and instead seems to hesitate.

"The girl you wrote the prescription for... she's quite - broken," the American states.

And its perfectly obvious to the doctor that the fact that she's broken is having more than a minor effect on him, because for the first time his grip on the gun tightens and his jaw clenches.

"Someone broke her heart," the American adds, by way of explanation.

There is so much regret, and what sounds like guilt in his voice that the doctor can't fail to miss it.

"You?," the doctor asks, simply.

Jasper grimaces then shakes his head. "Before. But not this time. It was someone who should have protected her. She loved him more than she loved herself and he betrayed her. And its fucking _killing_ her."

The anger is boiling over in the seat next to him and for the first time the doctor's afraid he might do something stupid.

"I could try some antidepressants. Most are out due to her pregnancy but there's a couple of options," he tells him hastily.

He writes another prescription, comparing the number and name from the first and transferring it over to the second.

He hands over the second prescription, and the man takes it without thanking him, still simmering over the whatever wrongs have been done to his girl, then withdraws the gun and vanishes into the night.

Once he's out the door, he leans over and locks the passenger door then his own.

He finally registers his hands are shaking and there's sweat sliding down the back of his neck.

But he's alive, not shot in the head by some gun-toting American who's somewhat unhinged over the state of his pregnant girlfriend.

He thinks about filing a police report right now, but its already late and his family's waiting for him to join them for dinner. He'll do it tomorrow morning instead.

* * *

The drugs have fixed her morning sickness, but they don't fix Eleanor.

She is _somewhat_ better and seems to function slightly better during the day.

But Jasper had hoped for so much more. He thought she might be back to her old self, firing cutting quips at him and maybe, just maybe, he might be able to touch her again.

Not sex. Yet. He knows that would be a step to far.

But he's been so long without her that the longing just to hold her, to have his hands in her hair, his lips on hers, burns stronger than ever. Somehow having her in his arms makes him feel complete, and without her nothing feels right.

He's up late the third night after his impromptu visit to the doctor, on to his fifth whiskey and still brooding over Eleanor and Robert Fucking Henstridge when he makes an impulsive decision, something that's been in the back of his mind this past week.

For him, this score is never going to be settled, this wrong is never going to be made right, until he puts a bullet through King Robert Henstridge's brain.

And he doesn't care if they lock him up, or if they hang him, or whatever antiquated punishment they still have on the books for treason.

He only cares about revenge, and making Robert suffer, and seeing to it that that stupid fucking bastard never has an opportunity to come anywhere near Eleanor again and that she can go back to her family without fear of him or what he might do to her.

And with that he slams down his whiskey, pulls on his coat and places his gun into his holster.

 _He means business._


	23. Chapter 23

_Thanks for your reviews and keep posting them, as requested we have some Eleanor Jasper this chapter_

* * *

It's all too easy for Jasper to get into the Palace.

He is, in fact, the perfect assassin.

Trusted security detail, with all the correct passes and code words. Close to the Royal Family, with nearly three years service on record.

He enters via the tunnels just after midnight.

As if she wasn't already implanted on his brain, the tunnels serve as a reminder of everything Eleanor.

They have been down here so many times before. Late nights or early mornings like these.

Drunk. Desperate. Fucking.

And in the later stages of their relationship, when he was Jasper 2.0 they had both _known_ even if they weren't ready to _say_ it that that there was a whole lot more to their relationship than just the push-pull of desire and mind-blowing sex.

That there was _love_ too.

The musty stale scent of the tunnels brings back such clear images in his head. Her hair shimmering in the half light, long legs wrapped around his waist while her hands were on his shoulders and everything was so fast and urgent between them that they can't draw breath or think.

God she was so beautiful, and most of all she was _his_ and _only his_.

He wants that Eleanor back.

The one who was wild and free. The girl who couldn't be tamed and who was brave and bold and alive with so much fire.

The girl Robbie had crushed with his fucking evil treachery towards a girl who was supposed to be his _sister_.

* * *

He's still brooding on Eleanor as he makes his way along the East Wing Hallway in the dead of night.

He's more than ready to do this, he's thought of it maybe a hundred times this past week. What it would feel like to put a bullet in the King's brain.

He opens the door into the King's private suite, which features a luxurious sitting and dining area which connects to his private bedroom.

Jasper stealthily walks over to the bedroom them pauses by the door and withdraws his gun.

A few seconds later he's pushing the door open and sliding in through the door, gun first, aimed towards the bed.

He takes a few stealthy steps towards the bed, stalking his prey, but once he gets there he stands there staring at it in the dark, puzzled.

Ever so carefully he ghosts a hand over the duvet to confirm what he thinks he's seeing.

There is no King Robert present in the bed.

He must have changed his schedule and be staying elsewhere.

This will not be finished here tonight after all.

He slips his gun into his holster and shuts the door after his quietly.

In the room next door he's startled to find none other than James Hill standing there, with his gun drawn on him.

"If you're here to kill the King you're going to be disappointed because he's not here. Actually he's getting arrested as we speak. For the murder of King Simon. I picked up the file you had and started where you left off and it led me down several very interesting paths," he adds by way of explanation.

Jasper stares back at Mr Hill, open mouthed. "He commissioned Ted Pryce to kill the King?" he questions.

Mr Hill shakes his head and corrects him. "He commissioned someone else to commission Ted Pryce to kill your father. To keep the necessary degrees of separation between himself and the killer. Being on the island gave Robert a perfect alibi," he adds.

He had a strong suspicion that Robert was somehow involved in the King's death in some form or another but he'd lacked the evidence to prove it.

"I always was suspicious about him. Because in terms of motive as the heir he had the most to gain," Jasper tells him.

Mr Hill nods at him.

"Sit down," he tells him curtly, pointing the gun at him.

Jasper sits himself down on a very plush sofa and waits for the browbeating he knows is coming. Mr Hill puts the gun away then wastes no time in laying into him.

"What did I tell you last week?" Mr Hill demands, angrily.

He doesn't bother waiting for an answer.

"I told you this was not the way. I told you I would help you with this. And once again I find you're totally incapable of trusting anyone or reining in your impulsive desire for vengence," he lectures.

"It's a very good think the King's not here because if he was you would be getting executed for treason very shortly and where would that leave Princess Eleanor?" he demands, hotly.

The mention of her name reminds him that he's going to have to tell Eleanor that her former brother was also the one who plotted to kill her father. Yet another instance of betrayal of the cruellest kind.

And of the fact that she's already broken and he doesn't know how to fix her.

Mr Hill gets up suddenly and fixes himself a glass of whiskey from the side table then pours a second glass and shoves it into Jasper's hand.

"She's not going to take the news about Robert killing her father well," he adds, in what must be a considerable understatement.

Jasper shakes his head quickly and gulps down a swill of whiskey and then another.

And then he's clutching an empty glass in his hands so tight and staring into the few drops of amber liquid that remain.

"I don't know what to do for her," Jasper confesses, tightly.

"I thought she might get better, just a little day by day, but nothing is changing. She won't talk to me about anything. I can't touch her. I'm - I'm afraid that that bastard seriously fucked her up and she'll never get better. And that we'll never get back to how we were before," he adds.

He's still looking at the glass as he keeps talking, but the sound is increasingly desperate. "I promised her I would never give up on her but I feel like I've lost her already and can't ever get her back."

Before he had been justifiably angry that the young man he'd put so much effort and trust into had, one more time, shown the same stubborn determination to go his own way at whatever cost to himself and the girl he too cares so much about.

But sitting across from him he can hear his voice break and there's the distinct look of tears in his eyes and he knows that Jasper Frost is almost as broken as the Princess he vowed to protect.

He gets up and steps over towards him and lays a hand on his shoulder, heavily.

"She's stronger than you think, son. You've got to hang in there."

* * *

By the time he gets back to the cottage in Somerset its just on 5.30am.

Eleanor's sitting in the hallway with her arms hugging her legs. She's been hiding in the shadow's but is now illuminated when he switches on the light.

He can see the worry etched all over the face, and it takes a few seconds to fade once she sees him.

She comes straight out with it.

"Did you kill him?"

She's been brooding on it for hours and she's long since decided there's only one reason Jasper would slip away so secretly at night without telling her where he's going or why.

He doesn't bother pretending he doesn't know who she's referring to.

"No. I tried to but he's getting arrested for the murder of your father right now instead," he states.

Because he's too fucking tired to ponder it and try to work out some nicer, gentler way to break it to her.

He hears her quick intake of breath and then she startles him by saying, "I wondered about that."

But then he supposes if she's accepted that he can drug and rape his supposed sister and cheat his supposed brother out of his inheritance its not too much of a step to believe him capable of murdering his supposed father.

Slowly she gets to her feet.

It's almost painful for him to see her in only a thin pair of shorts and a camisole. He looks away for a second.

"You left me alone," she says accusingly.

"Eleanor, I-" he starts to try to explain.

But she ignores him and continues, pointing her finger at him. "Don't you dare ever do that again. Don't you ever think that you can just go out there and do something like getting arrested and being put in prison when I will be alone for the _rest of my life,"_ she continues accusingly, wildly.

"You can't bloody do that," she tells him, pointing her finger once more as her voice rises, angrily and there are tears welling up in her eyes now.

"I _need_ you. We're supposed to be together you fucking arsehole," she tells him, setting the record straight, voice unsteady and tears spilling out of her lashes onto her face.

He takes a step towards her, and he expects her to crumble.

But instead she swipes a hand over her face, wipes away the tears, straightens her spine and stands tall.

She takes one step towards him and her hand smacks him with a sting across the face.

She steps back from him and regards him evenly as he nurses his face.

"I need you to stay with me tonight. No sex. Just be with me," she demands, and its issued like a Royal command of old.

 _Open my door bodyguard. Hold my bag bodyguard. Come with me bodyguard._

Seeing a glimpse of the Eleanor of old is like having life breathed into his dying soul.

He swallows and smiles, ignoring the sting across his jawline.

"Of course Princess. We will _always_ be together."


	24. Chapter 24

_Thanks for the reviews everyone and back with more Jasper and Eleanor. Glad to know you're still reading and enjoying it._

* * *

They've been lying low ever since Robert was arrested.

On the third morning, Eleanor's quiet at breakfast until she's finished her toast.

"I'm going to have to go back there. Soon," Eleanor announces, pushing her plate away from her. She picks up her tea cup and takes a sip.

There's no mistaking there's a certain apprehension in her voice which clarifies where the there is she's referring to. The Palace.

"Your brother doesn't have any powers at the moment. Liam is acting Monarch and if he's found guilty of King Simon's murder Robert will be deposed," Jasper tells her. He's been scanning the papers online for the latest in constitutional arrangements.

" _If_ ," Eleanor repeats, ominously. Because _if_ Robert isn't found guilty, he will still be King. Her mind starts to spiral at the thought of being back at the Palace where Robbie is King and she is supposedly his sister yet not his sister. How could she ever sleep at night with him under the same roof. It would be _so easy_ for him to sneak into her room, to slide under the covers. To put his hand over her mouth and his body over hers. Or even to put his hands around her neck and start squeezing until the life slipped out of her.

There's a clatter opposite him as Eleanor sets her tea cup down abruptly.

She reminds herself that Liam and her mother both still think she's dead. That they're missing her, and waking up every day with the same sorrow in their hearts she felt when her father died. The same sorrow she can still feel but won't allow herself to remember right now when she thought _he_ died, too.

"You're coming with me," she announces to Jasper.

Because after all this time, Jasper Frost is the one person she doesn't doubt has the ability to protect her body at night. Mostly by being on top of it. But even right now when he's not doing that she still trusts him with her life.

Opposite her Jasper Frost merely nods as if it's a given that he'll go wherever she goes.

Eleanor looks down at herself.

"There's also _this_ to deal with," she states, and gestures with a flourish towards her stomach.

Finally, she's decided to acknowledge the elephant in the room. As if he hasn't been waiting for it for weeks now.

Jasper Frost pushes himself up from the table and walks over to where she's sitting and sits himself down beside her.

His hand reaches out and he lays it carefully against her stomach, his broad fingers splayed against the slight swelling.

And until today Eleanor's been looking but all she can see is that her breasts are swollen and she hasn't even seen any change until she can feel his hands pressed against it.

He's looked up from her stomach to her face and she's holding her breath so tight while he speaks to her.

"What do you want Eleanor?" he says, simply.

And he's looking at her as if he would give her anything she asked for. And having him so near to her, with his hands on her skin and his breath warm against her cheek is making her feel nothing but nervous. And exhilarated.

She thinks back to the days in the castle when she would lay her hands on her stomach, cradling her baby gently, and talk to it about what it would be like when she got out of the castle. About how she would love the baby. And talk to it about the man sitting beside her, because she was so sure that he would be so strong and steadfast as a father.

"I don't want anyone to hurt the baby. I want it to grow up happy. I want it to have everything. I don't want people to call it a bastard."

It's a statement of defiance against Robert and her mother and everyone who would try and take the baby away from her.

There's a sudden gleam in Jasper Frost's eye.

Because only a few weeks ago the thought that he, a con artist from Vegas with a criminal record, might be able to be with Princess Eleanor Henstridge, seemed quite impossible.

But now, what seems impossible, seems not only within reach, but also necessary.

And with Robert locked up, who is there to stop them?

He withdraws his hand from body and takes her hand in his, and the very action makes her stomach flutter.

He's looking in her eyes and his hand reaches around the back of her neck and he presses his forehead against hers, and Eleanor's all out of breath with anticipation of where he's going to go next.

"Right now in this moment we can do whatever we want. We could be together. We could be happy. There's no one to stop us."

He turns his head and presses a kiss into her cheek, then lifts his head away from hers.

"Eleanor Henstridge, I've loved you for a long time. And I won't ever stop loving you. I need you to be my wife Princess. Say yes."

And Jasper 2.0 has vanished because it not a question, but a command.

But there's no hesitation in her heart. "Yes," she repeats.

And after all these days, he thinks, _finally_ , because for the first time in weeks she's smiling back at him.

And she's _happy_.

* * *

Four days later she makes an unexpected appearance at the Palace, with her former bodyguard in tow.

There's a clatter of expensive silverware against Royal Doulton , as the Queen drops her fork in astonishment, and stares back at her formerly dead daughter.

"Son of a bitch," exclaims the Queen. Part of a sirloin steak drops to the ground and the Royal corgis congregate towards it, yapping with noisy excitement.

"I'm afraid coming back from the dead is becoming something of a trend in this bloody family. Unfortunately," Cyrus announces sourly.

Eleanor raises an eyebrow. "Yes its unfortunate that now you're going to have to revise your plan to kill Liam to also include how you're going to dispose of me. And explain to the people why on earth they would want to install a King with only one ball while you're at it."

Cyrus scowls because he's been pondering this himself and is yet to arrive at a solution.

"How the bloody hell are you even alive?" he bursts out.

But everyone ignores him, and Eleanor doesn't deign to answer that question right now.

Sitting beside the Queen, Liam is looking nothing short of ecstatic to see the sister he had buried only a few weeks ago returned to the Palace.

"It's good to have you back Lenny," he states simply, then pushes his chair back, and gets to his feet to wrap her into a tight hug.

The Queen follows, blinking back tears, in a rare display of emotion.

Eleanor turns to Jasper, who's been hanging a step behind her, waiting for the drama to subside.

"This is my fiancé," she announces, as if introducing him to strangers for the first time.

"We'll be getting married in the family chapel next week," she adds, as three astonished faces look back at her.


	25. Chapter 25

_Thanks for your reviews. Fanfiction website is being stupid and not letting me upload documents but I have overcome uploading problems by editing an older file._

 _Hope you had a good Christmas and merry New Year everyone_

* * *

Ten minutes later they're seated in the Green drawing room, in an impromptu family conference minus Cyrus, who had withdrawn to sulk in private and ponder the arrival of one more obstacle to his restoration to the throne.

Helena assumes control of the conversation before anyone else has had the chance to utter a word.

"Robert's arrest is a temporary misunderstanding," she announces. "I'm sure once the Police have a chance to review the evidence they'll find there's a mistake and he'll be released without charge."

Jasper Frost would beg to differ, as would Princess Eleanor.

Prince Liam jumps into the same argument he's already had several times with his mother.

"Robert killed Dad. That's what the evidence says. Dad knew he wasn't fit to be King and that's why he wanted to abolish the Monarchy. And in return Robert plotted to kill him. I just wish you would be prepared to face the facts mother and stop putting Robert on such a pedestal," he adds hotly.

Uninvited, Jasper Frost has seated himself on the chaise lounge. Welcome or not, he will soon be family, he reasons.

And he's about to add his opinion into the mix. "The evidence is strong enough to get Robert convicted of murder," he announces.

Queen Helena and Prince Liam both snap their heads towards him.

"You seem awfully certain of that Mr Frost," the Queen states, watching him suspiciously.

Jasper merely nods. "I put much of the evidence together myself. James Hill picked it up where I left off."

Eleanor decides to step forward then. "Robert kidnapped me and held me hostage in Brigham Castle for four days. He even tried to kill me," she announces.

And now Helena and Liam's eyes swivel to the Princess. Helena's mouth forms into a small 'o' in shock. Liam doesn't seem quite as taken aback.

"That can't be true," Helena states, contradicting her daughter.

"It is," Jasper backs her up. "I had to release her from the castle."

"Going by what we now know about our supposed brother it does seem like the sort of thing he would do," Liam states cynically.

Impersonate the sovereign.

Fake his own death.

Depose and kill the King.

String along his former girlfriend, and steal his current love interest. Call his former girlfriend a whore.

So why not add imprisoning his supposed sister in a castle and trying to kill her to the list?

"He needs to be locked up for good," Liam adds again angrily. "Before he does any more collateral damage."

Jasper's looking over at Eleanor, wondering just how much of what happened in the castle she's going to disclose to her family.

But she's fallen silent, and her lips are set tight.

He won't be the one to tell her secrets.

Instead she steps up from the settee abruptly.

"I'll be retiring now. I trust while I was dead no one inconveniently reallocated my room?" she asks.

Helena shakes her head. "I was thinking of repainting it in pink and gold but I hadn't got around to calling the decorator in. I did have your portrait taken down and moved to the West Wing," she adds.

"So pleased to hear you were able to relieve your grief over the death of your only daughter by erasing my memory and planning to redecorate my room in vile colour combinations mother," Eleanor quips then turns on her heel.

* * *

There's a tap at her bedroom door a few minutes later, and Eleanor gives permission to enter.

She turns to see her mother enter.

Apparently she's recently given up on the whole, "It's the Queen of England" announcement routine and is now settling for something a little more subdued.

Her mother walks across the room and settles herself elegantly on one of her eighteenth century French chairs.

"If I didn't say that we're very pleased to have you back Eleanor, I'll telling you now," she announces, unexpectedly.

Her words make her daughter soften, and she even allows herself a small smile.

"I missed you and Liam," she says, simply. "That was why I came back, even though-" she stops herself.

"Even though," Helena repeats, questioning.

Eleanor stills from wiping the makeup off her face, and looks back in the mirror and not at her mother. "Even though I wasn't sure if it was safe here."

Helena draws a heavy breath, and it's weighted with guilt, because Eleanor's admission in the drawing room that Robert tried to kill her has tipped the scales too far against her eldest and favourite son, and it's hard for her to reconcile she's gotten it so wrong for so long.

It's Helena's silence that makes Eleanor speak.

"Robbie's not the person you think he is Mum. In the castle he was nothing like the brother I knew. He was nothing like a brother at all," she adds tightly, and the tears are pricking at her eyes as her hands unscrew the face cream in her lap. But her hands are unsteady and she won't look back at her mother.

There's something in that phrase and in the tone in her daughter's voice which causes Helena to flinch.

A moment later she's standing behind her daughter in the mirror and watching her carefully.

"I've been afraid of this for a long time," Helena confesses, and Eleanor frowns, not understanding her meaning.

"How close you two were. Had you actually been brother and sister I could have felt comfortable about it. But then I knew that you weren't actually related and there was always this nagging doubt, this fear, that something could happen between you. Some scandal could engulf the family because of the fact that my mother and I covered up your real brother's death and Robbie was brought in to replace him," she explains, looking down at the drink in her hands.

Helena takes a sip of the drink then follows with another. "That's why I eventually decided to encourage your relationship with Jasper Frost. He clearly loves you with his whole heart and you feel the same. And that is the kind of love that will displace any other emotions. Other relationships," she adds.

Eleanor is frowning and interrupts her mother. "I'm not _attracted_ to Robbie Mum-" Eleanor interrupts her in protest.

Helena nods her head in agreement. "I know that. Because you see him as a brother. But he doesn't see you as his sister anymore. And when he found out about the fact that he wasn't the real heir I think he resented both you and Liam for being your father's children while he was not. He still loves you but he hates you too. He wants you but he wants to punish you too."

There's an acute sense of pain in her mother's voice and in her face, and Eleanor's staring back at her in the mirror.

"In the castle Robbie shut me in a room and he pushed me down and-" Eleanor's voice cracks, and she breaks off.

Helena's face fills with regret and she places an arm over Eleanor who clutches her arms tight about her mother's arm.

"I know darling," she murmers, as if she already knew what she was going to say. Eleanor lets herself be rocked by her mother for the first time in a very long time.

"Now that we know what he is, we can stop him. We can protect you and everyone else from him," Helena vows, still holding her daughter tight.

A few moments later she gently disentangles herself from her daughter and seats herself on the edge of her daughter's bed.

"The worst of it all is that he is what I moulded him to be," Helena tells her, and for once in her life, her steel plated armour is cracking because there's a glimpse of tears in her eyes as she reflects in her own part in creating a monster.

"I taught him how to manipulate people and how to get what he wanted even if he destroyed people along the way. I just never imagined he would hurt you so badly."

Eleanor shakes her head. "You only did what you thought was right for him to be King. You couldn't have known how twisted he was inside."

They both fall silent.

When Eleanor looks up she speaks again. "You can't tell Liam about this. If he finds out he'll do something stupid."

Like Jasper, she adds in her head.

"We can't have another King arrested for murder. Someone's got to run this bloody monarchy and I need my brother alive," Eleanor states. Liam is one of her few crutches in this place and she can't do without him.

Helena sighs. "Yes," she agrees. "That would be for the best," she agrees, getting to her feet. She doesn't need to see her only remaining son launch himself on yet another impulsive vengeance quest.

She turns to face her daughter.

"Regarding the marriage you have my full support. After everything that's happened you more than anyone deserve a chance at happiness and I'm quite certain Jasper Frost will do his utmost to make you happy."

She takes two steps towards Eleanor and drops a kiss on her forehead.

"Goodnight Eleanor."


	26. Chapter 26

_Thanks for your reviews and patience while I got a new chapter together, has taken a while as I had some car drama but now I have a new replacement car._

* * *

Two days later they're sitting around the dinner table when Eleanor makes the announcement she's been holding off for as long as she could.

The fact that she refused alcohol at last night's dinner and again the night before has everyone suspicious _something_ is going on because neither her mother or her brother can remember the last time she got through a whole day without a drop of alcohol.

Jasper's sitting beside her, looking tense because in the few days he's had the status to enable him to sit with the family as a future Royal, he's never felt comfortable with his new role.

The feeling of awkwardness is not helped by the fact that Helena and Liam sit opposite each other, alternately agreeing and arguing about matters of state, separated by a good ten metres of table and expensive gold tablewear, while Eleanor and Jasper sit in the middle, watching the dialogue back and forth, like umpires at a tennis match.

Eleanor has been known to giggle if the banter between her mother and brother escalates into something properly entertaining, while Jasper just sits beside her with a pained look on his face, as if a slow death would be a preferable option, and adjusting his bow tie so he can get a little more air.

Just when things get to the stage that Helena tells her son to "Shut up and walk away," Eleanor interrupts.

"Before Liam walks away, I have something to say. Something important."

"I'm not going to walk away. I'm the Acting King. If anyone walks away it should be Mum," Liam argues.

Helena rolls her eyes tiredly.

"I'm pregnant," Eleanor announces.

Helena's mouth falls open, and then she snaps it shut.

" _Eleanor_ ," she says reprovingly, because the habits of a lifetime - to think of appearances and protocol and _what would people think_ \- are hard to drop.

"I didn't do this on my own," Eleanor defends herself. "If he- " she points her finger at Jasper, shifting the blame -"hadn't decided it was a good idea to shag me senseless in the tunnels this would never have happened. I happened to be very drunk at the time," she adds piously.

Jasper rolls his eyes, and corrects her. "We both were."

Liam interrupts them both abruptly. "Will you please both _stop talking_ ," he demands. "That's already more information than I needed to hear."

"Agreed," Helena echoes.

Liam continues. "Poorly timed as it is, I wish you both well. You have my congratulations," he says and stands up and moves to hug his sister first and then Jasper.

Helena decides to follow after Liam and places a kiss onto Eleanor's cheek. "Let's just hold off the announcement until _after_ the wedding."

"Yes well people don't even know I'm alive yet. And I prefer to keep it that way for the time being," Eleanor tells them. "If the Prime Minister or the King don't know I'm alive they can't tell me what to do or what, or who, not to do," she adds.

* * *

Her wedding must be the quietest ever in Royal History.

There are a total of five people there.

Her mother.

Liam - who gives her away and then acts as Jasper's best man.

James Hill.

Sarah-Alice Hill who begs to be made flowergirl and is granted her wish.

And Imogen who acts as her bridesmaid.

As Liam delivers her to Jasper's side, then switches over to stand next to Jasper, Jasper leans forward.

"You look beautiful," he says.

And she does, because the short, plain white shift, the red rose in her hair that matches the bold red of her lips, suits her far better than the most elaborate wedding gown.

Never of them are listening to what the chaplain has to say.

Her hand is tight in his, his eyes are on her and her eyes on him, and for the first time they know that they will be together for ever, and no one can take that away from them.

He has to repeat their vows to them twice before they realise they're supposed to say something.

They repeat his words, dutifully.

And once they're finished Jasper slides a ring onto her hand.

"I love you," he whispers in her ear.

And the very words are thrilling, intoxicating to her ears.

"I love you too," she whispers back at him, low so that only he can hear.

Their lips crash together, people clap, and he picks her up in his arms and carries her down the aisle.

It's a perfect day. And it's the start of their new life together.


	27. Chapter 27

_Sorry for the delay. Back with another chapter._

 _This isn't the last one but we are near the end of the story_.

* * *

She was never sure that she would submit to a Royal wedding, because she wasn't sure that she was the marrying type.

At weddings she was more the do the best man and his mate in the toilet while overindulging in the free bar and smoking up in the stalls afterwards type than suited to being a bride.

But if she had ever imagined a Royal Wedding it had always been with a measure of dread, because weddings were not for the couple involved but for the people and it was infinitely more about the guest list and the wedding dress and who was appointed as bridesmaids and groomsmen and inspiring the public with their grace and nobility in front of the camera while providing an opportunity for the nobility to catch up with each other to make snide remarks about each other's costumes and discuss the latest polo match or horse trials behind closed doors.

The fact that she didn't need to suffer through any of that was testimony to the little known benefits of being officially dead.

She made a note that she was to remain dead for at least another week so that the Press doesn't't have an opportunity to ruin their honeymoon.

Liam's speech as the best man has some highs and some lows.

Eleanor's watching Jasper's eyebrows knot together increasingly tightly when he makes reference to Jasper's shady past. Or the fact that Jasper may have had something to do with the string of men Eleanor was talking with at the dance festival they went to first disappearing and then later being discovered in the first aid tent requiring attention for blows to the head.

And Eleanor's less than amused when her brother starts talking about her wanting to take Jasper to the festival to make him jealous.

Just as bloody well there's no media present.

Once he stops talking, the band strikes up.

Jasper takes a gulp of his drink and that seems to remove the scowl his new brother in law has put on his face.

He stands up, tall and straight and looks down on Eleanor, offering her his hand. "May I have this dance Your Royal Highness Mrs Frost?" he asks formally.

It's the first time anyone has called her by her new name, and it sounds foreign and yet exciting falling from his lips.

Eleanor bites down on a smile and nods, placing her hand into his.

The first dance plays, and then the next.

Others join them on the dance floor - Liam is dancing with Willow, who's now his Private Secretary, Sara Alice stands on James Hill's feet and unreasonably demands he dance faster, the Head Butler daringly asks Queen Helena to dance, while Imogen sits it out, happy to sit and watch.

In the middle of the dance floor, Jasper and Eleanor haven't said a word to each other.

Words aren't enough to say how they feel.

Jasper has a hand around Eleanor's waist, and his head is cocked into her neck, breathing in the silk of her hair, while his breath fans against her neck.

Eleanor has her hand caught in his and pressed to his chest.

When she finally disengages herself from the butlers's sweaty clutches Helena stands and watches the bride and groom standing so close together in total silence.

Both of them have been oblivious to anything or anyone else since they stepped onto the dancefloor.

Their world's consist entirely of each other.

Liam has finished dancing with Willow and informs his mother that as King, and as her older brother he thinks he has a right to claim a dance with the bride.

But Helena shakes her head disapprovingly telling him to walk away and come back later.

Because they've both been waiting their whole lives to find each other.

And now they finally have they'll have to let them have their moment together.

* * *

Eleanor's already sitting in their new bedroom by herself when there's a knock at the door.

"Come in," she says, and Jasper opens the door and then closes it behind him, using his trademark move of sliding it closed behind him while still facing her.

"Hi," he greets her, and there's a distinct nervousness in his voice.

"Hi," Eleanor greets him back, shyly.

It feels like a repeat of their first date - both of them dancing around each other so carefully, wary of putting one step wrong.

It's been months since they were together, and so much has changed.

Her brother casts a long shadow over them both.

Once upon a time it was so long that Jasper doubted if they would ever be together again, and secretly Eleanor did the same.

Eleanor sits in the middle of the massive double bed, looking small and forlorn in her simple, short white dress amongst its opulence.

Jasper leans forward from the doors and walks towards her slowly, then sits down on the bed beside her.

He starts talking and Eleanor can tell he's mentally rehersed this in his mind once before, or even said it aloud.

"I just wanted you to know that if you don't want to do anything tonight, that's fine with me. I can wait until you're ready. Just having you here is more than enough for me."

Eleanor can't help but be touched by his words and his determination to put her first in everything he does. It wasn't always like this with him, but he's changed so much since they met.

She shifts closer to him, without looking him in the face, but her hand slides into his, and he grips it tightly, as if holding on to her for dear life.

Finally she turns her head towards him. "It might be enough for you, but it's not enough for me," she tells him.

It only takes a few seconds before his eyes alight with an emotion she knows only too well - lust. But when he looks back at her there's a new softness that wasn't there in the old days too.

Eleanor leans forward and her fingers slip into his tie, loosening the knot.

"Even though I'm Eleanor Frost, I'm still Her Royal Highness Princess Eleanor. One of the perks is being royal is that I do what I want. And right now I want to do this," she tells him, leaning in to kiss him.

Jasper smirks back at her once she breaks the kiss. "What the Princess wants, the Princess gets," he replies obligingly.

* * *

When he'd put his hands on her and pressed her onto the bed, there was a moment when she thought everything she'd worked so hard to forget over the past month had been undone, because she'd felt a fleeting moment of panic.

And she'd thought Robbie - whose very mention had been so carefully excluded from every aspect of this day - had once again managed to intrude and ruin this most precious of days.

It's only later when Jasper's lodged himself on top of her, between her legs and inside her, that she realises that Robbie hadn't succeeded.

Once she gets her breath back from all of the things he's doing to her and making her feel, he flips her over so that she rests her head against his still beating chest.

He has his lips against her cheek and his hands are in her hair and she knows with a fresh clarity that Robbie hasn't broken her and he can't break them apart.

Whatever happens, and wherever they go, Eleanor thinks that Jasper will always give her this feeling.

A feeling of breathlessness and excitement but also a sense of security, of being held so tight to someone else's heart that two hearts combine to beat as one.

It's why she said yes to him, because she'd loved him and lost him once, twice, three times.

The truth is she can't afford to lose him ever again, because he is the only thing that makes her feel complete.


	28. Chapter 28

They have two weeks together before Princess Eleanor's status shifts from dead to officially undead.

There's a lot of explaining to do, and even Helena can't think of a way to hide elements of truth.

In the end the official version is that she was injured in a car crash and was recuperating in one of the family's private castles, and that King Robert decided that it should be announced that she was dead as he feared she wouldn't recover.

The public reaction varies from shock, to suspicion, to irritation or happiness, depending on who's being asked.

"Now the Royals are just taking the piss. What sort of doctors do they employ there cos I want my money back," writes one Daily Mail commenter, because more than one person has pointed out that there's been one too many Royal coming back from the dead lately for the public to find it all creditable.

The announcements about Princess Eleanor's recent marriage is made two days later.

* * *

Eleanor sits at the breakfast table sipping a cup of tea elegantly.

Her stomach is still violently opposed to the idea of food before 10am.

Three newspapers sit on the sideboard.

There's more than a few rumours and speculations about King Robert. He's already on trial for the murder of the King.

She had one more paper unfolded in front of her. She reads at least one every day, to keep up with the trial.

The trial is about her father, but the papers are also trying to piece together how her disappearance and supposed death fits into the equation.

She's already read stories suggesting he was trying to kill his sister Princess Eleanor to remove her from the line of succession or prevent her from marring an unsuitable American.

Today they're suggesting that King Robert was jealous of the American and desperately in love with his 'sister' Princess Eleanor himself.

It's all starting to get too close to the truth for comfort.

When Jasper comes into the room, he finds Eleanor sitting staring into her teacup, hands tight around the handle.

Jasper leans over her. His jaw tightens at the headline "Killer King in love with Princess?"

Without a word he closes the paper and tosses it aside.

He presses a kiss to Eleanor's cheek and she turns her face up towards him and the sunlight in reply.

Today's the day they will announce that they're expecting a baby, because her stomach is threatening to spill the beans if the Palace doesn't sometime soon.

He needs her focused and here with him, not a hundred miles away and dwelling on someone locked up three miles away.

Someone who was never worthy of her love, her thoughts or even now her forgiveness.

* * *

It's a chilly November day when Robert's trial finally winds up.

Eleanor's been following the reports and has sat in on some of the three week trial.

She still feels queasy in the mornings and listening to the evidence against her brother, of how he plotted to kill her beloved father, has been quite harrowing enough to make her never want to sit through another day.

The first day she'd had as much as she could stomach by 2pm, and got up and walked out, vowing she'd never come back.

But she did come back, four days later, and not once, but three more times.

Whichever way she'd looked at it, she owed it to her father to know how he'd died and who had been responsible.

He'd been a great King, and a great Dad, and the least she could do to honour his memory was to be there to see justice served.

A hundred things have come out of the trial which shocked the nation.

That Robert wasn't Simon's child. Or Helena's. That the real heir to the throne had died aged three weeks, making Liam the legitimate heir before her by four minutes. _Thank God_.

That the Queen and her mother had conspired to present Robert as legitimate, and succeeded.

That Robert had found out about the hoax as an adult.

That King Simon had also found out. That he didn't want Robert succeeding the throne because he considered him unsuitable for Kingship.

That Robert had plotted to kill the King, so that the abolition wouldn't proceed, and he would become King.

That Robert had contracted a shady underworld figure to coerce Ted Pryce to kill the King, and threatened his daughter's life if he didn't comply.

The wait for the jury to return its verdict is agonising.

After six hours they finally return and their decision is read out.

 _Guilty._

Eleanor stumbles a little at the words, overwhelmed with relief and a yet a fresh sense of loss for her father.

Jasper's by her side to steady her with a firm grip.

But there is finally the closure she has been searching for for so long.

* * *

It's not hard to miss Jasper's disapproval over what she decides to do next.

But he lets her go all the same, planting himself firmly by her side, reappointing himself as her bodyguard once more.

Behind the courthouse, the cells are cool and poorly lit and Robert looks impossibly elegant and improbable behind bars.

It's the first time she's been up close to him in nearly two months.

And while she knew this was something else she had to do, its not easy.

Her palms feel sweaty and her heart is beating double time.

"Here to gloat little sister?" Robert asks, challenging her.

And what would have once been a familiar endearment is turned into something cold and spiteful.

And its a lie. Like everything that ever was between them.

Eleanor shakes her head, and digs her nails into her palm.

"I should hate you for everything that you did to my father and my family. And to me. You saw the relationship Liam had with Dad and I had with Dad and you wanted to destroy it. The same way you tried to destroy me for falling in love with someone else."

Jasper shoots her a quick glance but she holds her chin high and looks straight ahead.

The word love seems to set Robert off. "You're a Princess and he's a common conman thief. And an American," he adds disparagingly.

Jasper bristles sharply. "But not a _murderer_ ," he replies back with emphasis.

Eleanor ignores them both and starts talking again.

"You didn't succeed because you only have hate and when you have hate there's no room for anything else. It will eat you up. And love is stronger than hate."

She reaches for Jasper's hand and they stand hand in hand united facing Robert.

"Only love can win, Robbie and that's why you've lost," Eleanor tells him, and she can almost feel her father's presence with her, filling her with strength.

All he ever wanted was for her to be happy, and at peace.

And finally she is.

She doesn't wait to hear his response but turns on her heel.

Through the drafty chill, Jasper's body feels warm by her side. He releases her hand and slides his arm around her and they walk out of the courtroom.

There's a new King, and a fresh start ahead for England.

Eleanor puts her hand on her stomach and the baby wriggles underneath her fingers.

The past is the past.

She loves Jasper Frost and he loves her back.

The future is filled with hope.

THE END.


End file.
